QUIET DAYS IN SPAIN 



I 



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QUIET DAYS IN 

SPAIN 



BY C. BOGUE LUFFMANN 

AUTHOR OF "a VAGABOND IN SPAIN," ETC. 



NEW YORK 
E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 

31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
19IO 



^<?'^'^ 

-^v* 



First Ediiion . . . June igio 
Reprinted before Publicaiicn 



///? 



// 



PREFACE 

ON taking my departure after telling some 
true but adventurous stories to a family of 
eager children, a little girl said to her mother, 
^' Wouldn't it be lovely if what he said were 
true ! " 

I am reminded of this remark as I write a pre- 
face, but I offer no excuse for the appearance of 
this book. It made itself ; it is a faithful tale, 
and should it here and there read like fiction — 
well, so much the better. 

During portions of 1908-9 I wandered over 
forty-two of the forty-nine provinces of Spain — I 
had previously made acquaintance with many 
of them — ^involving more than seven thousand 
miles of land travel, and taking pot-luck with all 
sorts of people. It would be odd had I not come 
by a few interesting facts. These I have en- 
deavoured to set down ; not always in the exact 
order in which they presented themselves, but 
ever with the desire to do justice to the Spaniard, 
his life, his country, and my own mood. The 
first chapter, in some way introductory, will 
prepare the reader for what is to follow ; but 
in the absence of any detailed expression of 



vi PREFACE 

opinion on Spain as a nation a few words may be 
included here. 

Poverty is the most painful and haunting fact 
of Spain. 

Millions of her people go hungry throughout 
their lives. Gaudy pomp, reHgious ceremony, 
debasing superstition, the brags of life and hope- 
less, comfortless poverty are almost everywhere 
jumbled. Great cities live on little churches, 
and great churches live on little towns. All Spain 
is odd, and it never can be even. Then who is to 
blame ? The modern Spaniard is blamed for his 
laziness. Outsiders point to what the Romans 
and Moors did. These were colonists, and plun- 
derers to boot. They brought vast treasures into 
Spain, and when they settled down to depend 
on the native store they did no better than the 
modern Spaniard. There is not a single period 
in the history of Spain when she was rich or drew 
decent comfort out of her native store. 

No British writer has written more enter- 
tainingly of Spain than George Borrow, and no 
man has created a more erroneous impression. 
*' The most magnificent country in the world,'* 
he proclaimed it, which is absurd, and proves 
that Borrow knew but little about mother-earth. 
Native life he understood, but even then his 
imagination and ineradicable habit of exaggera- 
tion caused him to place all his subjects in a false 
light. Spain was great when the world was small. 
She could produce adventurers by the thousand 



PREFACE vii 

where she could not raise a score of administrators ; 
and the characteristic still holds good. 

Of the South, the Spaniard looks that way for 
life. All his dreams are of the East and of the 
Moorish period in the West. His old romances 
are based almost entirely on Arabic themes ; his 
modem stage characters hail from Morocco ; his 
lover of fiction is under the spell of eyes which 
have captivated him in Tangier. The Moor is 
the '' eternal enemy/' and by a strange power of 
fascination is the most admired as he is the best 
hated man in the world of the Spaniards. 

Some people want and even expect Spain to 
change and become like the rest of Europe. 
As if it were possible ! Rather let us be thankful 
for the distinctiveness of the nations, for this 
world will be a dull affair if the busybodies ever 
succeed in making it '' much of a muchness.'' 

If we are to criticise the Spaniard it is to say 
that he is not so idle as lacking in administrative 
qualities. He can often initiate where he cannot 
grasp and carry through a concern. His poverty 
has made him afraid, and a number of traits, 
racial or acquired, leave him incapable of looking 
on life and its concerns from the standpoint of 
other European peoples. Nevertheless, he pre- 
serves a fine soul. The Spanish countryman is a 
splendid fellow, as eager, industrious, clean-living 
and contented as any man on earth when he is 
given a chance to live decently. 

Spaniards are charged with being cruel. Let 



viii PREFACE 

us rather say they are hard. They do not go 
about looking for the chance to do physical harm 
to any one. The Spanish mind is not easily 
understood. If we allow, as we may allow, that 
the British Isles hold nearly twice the population 
of Spain, then we may say that so far as ears, 
eyes, and hearts may realise, we shall easily 
discover ten times more misery in the British 
Isles, directly due to cruelty, than the same 
attention would reveal in Spain. The cruelties in- 
flicted in the world are generally due to ignorance. 
To cite parallel cases of English and Spanish forms 
of cruelty would be of little value. Facts have 
to be accounted for, and we see in the Spaniard 
some justification for what he does or neglects to 
do, and we cannot therefore separate a case from 
its causes, or blame a nation for the inborn 
defects of its individuals. 

Let it be said that the bull-fight is not a true 
reflex of Spanish character, any more than prize- 
fighting is of the English, and leave it there. 

A man never strikes a woman, or at least so 
rarely that few can tell of witnessing such an act. 
In the Asturias I once saw a man box his wife^s 
ears ; and allowing for all the circumstances, I 
think she thoroughly deserved it. 

The Spaniards display a pecuHar indifference 
to the feehngs of others. I have never seen a 
weakling championed, or a bad act rebuked ; 
but this grows out of respect for individual 
liberty, a kind of consciousness that no one has a 



PREFACE ix 

right to interfere. The habit of ridicule causes 
much heart-pain in Spain, and it is the vice of 
every class. It would be almost impossible to 
make the best-educated Spaniard see the truth 
of this statement, as he regards personal criticism 
as one of the few spices of life. The theatre gives 
abundant proof of the widespread habit of 
'' digging '' at any and every one, wherever there 
is the slightest chance. In their heated abuse the 
people go beyond the bounds of truth and decency, 
and the opprobrium heaped upon unquestionably 
innocent girls by fiery mothers is as painful as 
it is surprising. The spontaneity of the Spanish 
character prevents anything like the nursing of a 
grudge, but the ready thrust is no less trying. 
My jealous hostess, seeing I admired a beautiful 
woman, said to me in her presence, ** What do 
you think of her ? " I could do no less than 
exclaim, '' She is perfectly lovely ! '' Swift and 
cold as a dagger came the shaft, '' She has no 
back teeth ! " 

The blight of Spain is in her system of govern- 
ment. Her public men aspire to be dictators, and 
negative every wholesome desire when it leaves 
no room for their personal advancement. All 
decrees are of a suppressive character : press 
censorship ; no public meeting ; no free education ; 
no unions or alliances ; no emigration without 
permit ; no petitions for work nor demonstrations 
against rapacious authority. With the placing of 
Government supporters in every position of 



X PREFACE 

profit, the taxation of every form of labour, 
product, and enterprise, no more is done than 
will raise revenue, fill the pockets and increase the 
boasts of those in office, and add to the mountain 
of make-believe composing the political and 
social system of Spain. 

As a number of self-governing states owning 
allegiance to one monarch, Spain might do 
infinitely better than she does under the present 
system ; for there is an ineradicable vice in the 
form of official place-making and political corrup- 
tion, due largely to the size of the country and the 
ease with which all offences may be hidden. 

As Sancho Panza's grandmother remarked, 
there are the haves and the have-nots, and all 
Spain wants to be amongst the haves. 

No remedy is in sight, for it is unthinkable 
that any change can come from within until the 
Church is virtually suppressed, free institutions 
are not only tolerated, but supported by the 
general government, and the bulk of the revenues 
are spent in developing the provinces wherein 
they are raised. 

As things are, to win is to be in the right ; the 
average official Spaniard has no higher sense of 
morality. 

Recent Governments have given more and 
more to the Church and less and less to educa- 
tion. The revolutionary spirit is fostered by a 
desire to break through the chains of ignorance 
and stifling superstition which weigh down, sap. 



PREFACE xi 

and starve the bulk of the nation. Spain is 
held to Europe solely by the vitalising stream 
of commercial people from the north, and if 
it were possible to reorganise and preserve her 
public departments by an international com- 
mission she would soon vastly improve her 
status and estate. But the governing and the 
grasping class of Spaniard is opposed to the 
European ideal and trend. He is the child of 
Europe, an ignorant, but astute, greedy, and 
incurably vain child. 

E'inally, we should not take Spain seriously, 
for she is never in earnest, and as a country is 
not worth foreign intervention. Foreign capital 
and investments of one kind and another keep 
her employed, and as the world's playground she 
may still be reckoned with. So vast and varied, 
so unknown, she will continue to lure and fascinate, 
even to alarm. Spain remains the great unre- 
vealed store of the South — a part of Europe, 
a link with Asia, an offshoot of Africa, she leads 
us from people to people, from clime to clime. 
In race, language, and ideal, ever varying, she is 
one only under the impulse of religious fervour ; 
a mother land, yet everywhere with the un- 
formed heart of a child ; a remnant of the age of 
mysticism ; the victim of discredited institutions ; 
a holder to faith without works ; misled by an 
Eastern love of gauds, favours, and rewards ; 
possessed of a fine soul, but savage by reason of 
the hot blood coursing through her veins. If ever 



xii PREFACE 

a nation was by all the laws of nature and cir- 
cumstance divided against itself, it must be Spain. 
Portions of ^' Third Class," '^Seville Fair," 
'* The Home of Romance," '' A Great Shrine," 
and various notes used in these pages have 
already appeared in the Melhoiirne Age. For 
permission to republish them I must express my 
grateful thanks to Messrs. David Syme and Co. 

C. B. L. 

May^ 19 1 o. 



AN INVITATION 

Come, ye who would be straying 
From toil and heart-born care, 

Where orange flowers are playing 
With many a maiden's hair ; 

Look where the sun is pointing 
At noon across the sea. 

Up ! for your soul's anointing, 
And come along with me. 

A respite beg or borrow 

From worldly strife and strain. 
We go where toil's " to-morrow," 

The dreamy land of Spain. 

There, idling for a season 
Along her storied ways, 

May we find peace with reason 
In wealth of quiet days ! 



jriii 



CONTENTS 



Preface .... 

An Invitation 

CHAPTER 

I. The Breath of Life . 

II. Third Class . 

III. A Winter in the Hills 

IV, Maria the Mirth-maker 
V. Diversions at Cabello 

VI. A Love Story 

VII. Gastronomia . 

VIII. At Seville Fair 

IX. In Cold and Warm Quarters . 

X. The Seat of Mars 

XL La Bella Sombra 

XII. A Funeral and some Vital Concerns 

XIII. The Home of Romance 

XIV. Vagabond Discoveries and Reflections 
XV. At the Deep Arches . 

XVI. A Great Shrine 

XVII. The Cradle of the Cid 

XVIII. The City in the Fields 



PAG« 

v 
xiii 

I 
20 
28 
42 

55 
68 
88 

100 
112 
138 

151 
160 
172 
186 

198 
206 
223 
232 



x\-i CONTENTS 

CHAFTER FACE 

XIX A Student in Salamanca . . . 243 



o' 



XX. The Pleasures of the West 

XXI. A Pilgrim's Dole . ... 2-36 

XXII. By Our Lady of the Road . . .283 

XXIII. Now All is Done . . . . 294 

The Northern Gate . . . . -31- 

Index . . . . . . .^i^ 



QUIET DAYS IN SPAIN 

CHAPTER I 

THE BREATH OF LIFE 

" One's self I sing— a simple separate person." 

FROM a personal standpoint this book needs 
no apology. It is a plain tale of incidents 
and experiences in different times and places. 
With much to be thankful for, tribute must be 
offered to those patronesses of three Spanish 
shrines who afford special protection and blessing 
to vagabonds. Here thanks be given to '' Our 
Lady of the Road " (Leon), to " Our Lady of 
Health " (Taj ares), and to '' Our Lady of Rags 
and Tatters " (Rio Negro). To be under the safe 
guardianship of these three is to make confident 
holiday. Once I served an apprenticeship in the 
rural affairs of Spain ; applied the experience then 
gained to life in a far-off land, where I remained, 
a hard-worked exile, for fourteen years. 

In youth I felt that the best intelligence was 
shown in the capacity to create work and to in- 
crease the world's food-supply, and to this joint 
task I bent my back and my will. Then I dis- 



2 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

cerned the body to be of little account, and work 
criminal where it suppresses the demands of the 
soul. If we did our utmost to develop ourselves 
there would be less need to depend on others. I 
came to see men hate me for daring to say that 
poetry, beauty, and the broad face of the world 
are the best things to be in love with. I was in 
disgrace because I did not believe in work without 
end. For employment, recreation, and sustenance 
I would exhaust ruins and old cities, country-sides 
and their populations ; I would gladly feast and as 
willingly starve with them ; I would know again 
the unsullied snows and the fight for life on the 
high mountains, and the splendours of the burst- 
ing valleys. These are clean, gratifying things, 
conducive to pleasant days and peaceful slumbers. 

Hearing the call I turned to Spain. It was 
April, and such an April as the South had not 
known for years. The winter had been wet and 
mild ; and all the land was splendid to the eye, 
though the crop was little more than weeds. 

A train made haste to carry me inland by roads 
and mountains I had trudged in earnest youth. 
Broad plains of purple bugloss and crimson poppy 
waved a wild welcome ; a high and wide sky of 
flaming hues emitting a quickening heat overspread 
all visible things, and the voice of the South that 
is as wine rose to quicken and delight my heart. 
I was at home again, and found reason to be glad. 
We are all set towards some place or period in 
time. We understand countries we have neither 



BE CALM AND LIVE 3 

seen nor studied, where we cannot make head or 
tail of what is about us. I have always known 
and loved, even where I could not approve, 
Spain ; perhaps she appeals because she is the land 
of to-morrow and holds the gospel of never mind ! 
So long in chains, I was almost tempted to hurry ; 
but Spain forbids haste ; nothing shows more 
folly or vulgarity than striving to get ahead ; so 
catching the pulse of the country I moved to its 
time and tune. Years ago I haunted churches, 
galleries and places of fame ; now I was bent 
on more homely fare. Neither art nor history 
should claim much of my time. I desired to 
estimate Spain's native resources and to live 
with and know more of the everyday life of her 
people. As a matter of fact, I wished that some 
of the men and industries of Spain might find a 
home in and aid the development of a far-distant 
land ; and to this extent my wanderings had a 
practical side. 

Returning after an absence of many years, I 
see — more in architecture ; less in painting ; 
more in streets and windows than in domestic 
interiors ; more in the few splendid, than in the 
many poverty-stricken, regions ; more in the 
peasants than in those who form the town popula- 
tions ; and far more in the philosophic than in 
the actual concerns of Spain as a nation. 

It would be odd if this work, compiled from 
notes made in almost every part of the vast 
country, did not reveal some contradictions, for 



4 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

Spain is full of them. The aim has been to write 
provincially — to put the local fact on its ground. 
The references to Spain's natural resources, 
political and social conditions, have been compiled 
with every desire to do justice to the Spanish 
people and to inform the reader. Some important 
provinces and phases of Spanish life are not dealt 
with because they were included in the previous 
book, '' A Vagabond in Spain.'* 

A critic has said '' A traveller should make light 
of his troubles." Had the same critic been for long 
alone he might have known that an isolated man 
is besieged by a passion to explain himself. The 
world is in no haste to read books of facts ; and 
seldom gets to know what a man's thoughts turn 
to, and how he is sustained when left to himself. 
He spends much of his time in looking backwards, 
and away at the distances ; for if he did not so 
he could make no comparisons ; everything that 
was, becomes exaggerated, dwarfed, or altered, is 
more drab or highly coloured. Then the manner 
and the time of his thoughts change — he may not 
be a busy Briton in a lotus land ; but instead, 
falls into the leisurely seductive mood begotten 
in the idle ways of quiet places. Wherever pos- 
sible I have offered the sum of Spain's merriment 
to the reader ; but as Spain is not always and 
everywhere merry, there must be a sombre story 
and a little sermonising now and then. 

After Seville one is glad to escape to the quiet 
of Cordova. I came there for the third time, but 



SOME SPLENDID MEMORIES 5 

it is so old and full of interest as to be ever new 
and unknown. A little girl wrote to me there, '' I 
hope Poste Restante is a nice place, and that you 
are very comfortable." That was a good beginning. 
Once a tinsmith took an English sovereign from 
me ; and on my return met me at the railway 
station with the gold piece hanging from his 
watch-chain and the welcome words, '' Amigo — 
I am. rejoiced to see you." It was an accident 
that we met ; but as he embraced me he held out 
the gold ornament, and smiled, '' I have always 
worn this in memory of you ! " He was pain- 
fully cross-eyed ; but he knew his way about 
Cordova, and I am indebted to him for many 
little discoveries and pleasant hours. 

At the Fonda I was again welcomed by a fat, 
bow-legged, mutton-chopped waiter, who grabbed 
my hand and shook it heartily, saying with a broad 
beam of sunshine in his face, " I'm overjoyed to see 
you back again." I felt he was humbugging me ; 
but it took him little time to convince me that 
he really remembered me. The awkward part of 
this was that three or four other waiters were 
brought along, and I was introduced as an old 
friend of the house ! Later, I got into trouble for 
not holding a friendly intercourse with all these 
men before or after every meal. It can be nothing 
short of vulgar, nay, worse, it is bestial, '' animal," 
as they say, not to see or speak familiarly with 
every one met. This is a nice trait, but it means 
a lot of useless effort. 



6 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

Cordova is the sleepiest town in Spain, but for 
a few days I was kept busy, shaking hands and 
drinking cafe with those whom I had never hither- 
to spoken to but who '' remembered seeing me 
before ! " I went into a shop, and the owner at 
once said, " You were here years ago." Doubting 
his memory I said " No " ; but he '' Yes," and 
convinced me that he remembered me, though he 
referred to fifteen years previously ! He talked 
for half an hour, until I asked somewhat im- 
patiently, '' Here, give me what I want and let 
me go ? " 

This hurt him, and in my embarrassment I went 
off forgetting my walking-stick, which has a plant 
spud at the end. Soon I missed it, and the mo- 
ment I appeared in the doorway he called to one 
of the half-dozen boys who stood to one side of 
him, '' Here, Nino, get the busy foreign gentleman 
his toothpick ! " 

Cordova is full of fun, and chiefly so, I think, 
because one has time to observe and to let the 
humour sink in. In the market a small boy with 
a big apron and a pompous manner was offering 
half a mean kid to a woman for a peseta. She 
objected that it was very small, and he fairly 
smothered her with, *' Woman ! do you want half 
a bull for tenpence ! " 

On a piece of waste ground outside the town 
were over eighty heaps of manure and litter, large 
and small, suitable for dressing land. This had 
been collected from the streets by men and boys. 



CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 7 

who sell it to farmers and market-gardeners on 
their homeward journeys. On one tiny heap, a 
mere bucketful, was planted a card with '' Cheap ! 
Quick ! Giving up business ! '' 

This reminds me of some children who, born in 
Cordova, were taken to America, and, returning 
after years, said in an ecstasy, '' Oh, don't we love 
it all ! — even the dear old smells ! " 

A daily paper had this bit of news : '' Nine 
boys playing with dynamite are friends no longer ; 
their pieces are not likely to be identified and 
obtain absolution." 

At the post office I left fivepence, and calling the 
next day recognised the man with whom I left it ; 
he denied being present on the occasion ; he was, 
but when sure that I knew him, he fumbled in his 
pockets, and handing over the fivepence remarked, 
'' My honour is worth more than fifty cents ! " 
Quite so ; but that was his way of putting himself 
in the right, for he wished me to believe that I had 
swindled him. 

My cross-eyed friend was named Hijos de 
Cordova — Sons of Cordova ! To what remote 
period does that name date ? Whether this 
served as a passport I know not ; but he had no 
difficulty in gaining an audience with the proud 

Marchioness de O and persuading her to 

allow me to inspect her apartments. This lady 
was the wife of a great gamester, and, though 
she had inherited three large fortunes, was very 
poor, and lived by retailing the treasures of her 



8 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

large old house ; a veritable museum, containing 
beautiful furniture, old lace and silk by the hun- 
dredweight, many rare cabinets, fine carvings, 
and a rich collection of fans and rosaries in all 
sorts of material. Unequal to purchasing any of 
these, I made choice of some things which were 
regarded as lumber — an immense tarima — an 
octagonal wooden device, five feet across, of 
carved wood ornamented with brass. This con- 
trivance rests on the floor and supports the char- 
coal brazier, while the company sits round and 
uses the edge of the tarima as a footstool. A 
more interesting find was a muga — ladies' palfrey 
chair — in boxwood, with ivory and mother-of- 
pearl, the arm-rests representing two swan-necks 
and heads. The muga is no longer seen on the 
roads of Spain ; the peasantry do not employ it, 
and the ladies journey by private coach or train. 
Among the lumber were some disahumadors — 
incense burners used for sweetening and refreshing 
rooms. They are brass bowls on stands and have 
perforated covers. The custom was to macerate 
rosemary, lavender, dry roses, and other sweets 
of the garden and field, and, adding spices, mix 
these with hot ashes placed in the disahumador. 
The lumber-room also held broken statuary, win- 
dow and door fittings containing heraldic figures 
and coats-of-arms. It seemed as if the Marchioness 
had taken and kept whatever would preserve 
links with the past. There were some beautiful 
azulejos — coloured tiles — from the celebrated 



PRIDE IN TWO HOMES 9 

castle of Niebla, near Huelva, which, built in the 
thirteenth century, was declared original in every 
detail, and perfect in all. Here also lay several 
partadors — curiously shaped brass rings large as 
a cheese-plate ; they are still used to keep the 
cloth clean when the puchero or other cooking 
vessel is placed on the table. These, with some 
others, I bought ; but the pride of the Marchioness 
stood in the way of her taking money, and I was 
told, in a roundabout fashion, that I might leave 
it with the doorkeeper. It would be easy to 
moralise over this collection of objects, dead and 
alive ; but, after all — it is the history of the 
world ! 

One day a wizened, but pretty, old dame stood 
at her door polishing a small copper bowl — a 
diminutive puchero or pipkin ; the shape was 
rare, the material of fine tone, and I determined 
to buy it. The value was but a few pesetas ; I 
offered as much, and she said, " We have no 
bread, my man is away looking for some ; but 
the bowl was my mother's.'' This was no excuse 
for raising the price. It was evident she loved 
the thing ; but the money was a small fortune, 
so she took it and I went off. Later I was over- 
taken by a decrepit old man, who held out his 
hat in one hand and what I had paid for the bowl 
in the other. I saw the situation, for he said as 
plainly as possible, '' Here is your money, I want 
my bowl." I asked '' Why ? " '' It is not pos- 
sible that we sell it ; it was her mother's." The 



10 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

duty was plain. I gave him back the bowl and 
let him keep the money ; and felt I had had a 
good day. 

In spite of the many beautiful things to be found 
in Spanish houses of the upper classes, there is 
nothing to correspond with the dining, drawing- 
room, or library of a British home. Ornaments 
are rarely seen, and all small and beautiful things 
are kept in vitrinas — glass cabinets — rinconeras — 
corner closets — rare old chests, and boxes on high 
legs. There is everywhere a craze for reflecting 
glasses and gold-gilding ; in a small drawing-room 
were fifteen deeply gilt-framed mirrors, four of 
which were several feet in breadth and depth. 
There were also, besides these mirrors, twenty- 
two pieces of reflecting glass in furniture, so that it 
was impossible to find any position where one 
did not get side, back, and upside-down views of 
oneself and the rest of the company ! 

The most conspicuous want in Spain is domestic 
comfort. The houses are always dangerously cold 
and dank in winter ; there are no fireplaces, and 
therefore no fires, except in charcoal braziers ; 
and no hot bath is possible, or even a cold one, in 
the average house. Easy chairs and couches are 
only used in the best houses, cafes, and clubs. 
Carpets and rugs are rarely seen, and there are 
no books, hobbies, or personal employments to 
give an air of ordered thought or individuality to 
the home. Of social life in private houses there is 
nothing. One is never introduced to a person 



PRACTICAL ADVERTISING ii 

without the Spaniard saying, '' I hope I may see 
you at your house ; it is in the Calle So-and-so, 
and always open/' But should you go there he 
will be taken aback ; and it is a thousand to one 
he will regard the visit as a '' barbarity." What 
is more, he has no gift of conversation at home, 
and, as you may not see his wife or play with his 
children, the call is generally a dull failure and 
discomforting. I write this because I would not 
have the reader blind to the shortcomings of 
Spanish life. My concern is to make fair com- 
parisons, for we hold very erroneous impressions 
of the Spaniard, his country and its concerns. 

Clothes-lines are too dear for many, and much 
of the laundry is spread on roofs, floors, pavements, 
and other space available. One wonders that the 
garments can be perfectly clean, yet they are 
surprisingly so. All the clothes are laved in cold 
water, and but little soap is used, a powerfully 
caustic lye — made by immersing wood ashes in 
water — taking its place. The finest lady and the 
grandest seiior have their clothes returned from 
the laundry without any wrapping, and the well- 
ironed garments are used as advertisements ; 
boys, men, and women stop likely patrons in the 
street and exhibit petticoats, shirts, and other 
things ; all showing the deepest interest in the 
garments and the lavanderas' work. 

Cordova is the home of the torero — bullfighter. 
Out of the ring the torero must live quietly ; and 
from time immemorial this old city has been his 



12 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

asylum during the winter season. Half the Calle 
Gondomar is taken up with cafes, clubs, and ring 
men. Their short jacketas, and peculiar walk, 
generally proclaim them. Also, they shave their 
temples ; but many other Spaniards do this ; so 
to make sure it is a torero one looks at the back 
of the head, as the bullfighter has his hair drawn 
up like a woman to form a pigtail, which is 
braided and pinned on his crown. 

The stranger is surprised at the toreros' quiet- 
ness, the absence of noise and display. You realise 
the truth of what the people of Verona said of 
Dante, '' the man who has been in hell.*' 

The bullfighter saves his smiles for the ring. In 
private life he is the steadiest and most silent of 
men. Night after night I have sat with them in 
clubs and cafes to hear only the most conven- 
tional talk. One night, I remember, eleven 
prominent fighters sat together for over four 
hours ; they drank coffee, and smoked puras — 
cigars — incessantly. Now and then, one would 
speak and be eloquent with gesture, but the 
others would turn their heads, in a sign of in- 
difference, and quiet would return. 

I grow to like the Spaniard for saying, " To- 
morrow will be soon enough." To-day he would 
live. Every day he " takes the sun.'' That is the 
mode of the South — not to take the air, but the 
sun. The Spaniard fears air as if it were a pesti- 
lence, as it is in some of the narrow winding 
streets and deep-set windowless rooms. 



"SHE IS SO CIRCUMSPECT AND WHITE" 13 

Idling through a long afternoon on a seat in 
the Gran Capitan, I watched the crowd go to and 
fro. There were hundreds of lovely eyes, but only 
one pair of fresh pink cheeks. The dark rooms, 
and the general use of the shawl over the head, 
keep the skin very white ; and this is intensified 
by the use of rice powder. Hats are supplanting 
mantillas ; the mantilla may soon be a thing of 
the past ; few young women wear it, excepting at 
Mass and during seasons of merriment. The 
southern walk is always alluring. One sees every 
woman's petticoat, but never an ankle, for they 
are wonderfully deft and circumspect in holding 
their skirts, and when sitting never cross the 
feet. These southern Spaniards — the business 
folk of all grades — take their wives and children 
for walks every afternoon, and leave their shops 
and concerns to the care of others ; where no others 
exist the shop is closed that the day may yield 
some satisfying leisure. This may not be '' good 
business," but it is more rational and less glutton- 
ous than that of " enterprising " people. In this 
old city are great open spaces, parks, drives, and 
promenades where thousands of people strut, 
stroll, and rest every day in the year. We Anglo- 
Saxons often seem ashamed to rest, and it is 
positively dangerous to admit that we do not 
believe in work if it burdens and stifles us. The 
Spaniards of the towns are incapable of slavery 
to the loss of self. Their lives are narrow and 
simple, but are not painful. Aspiring less they 



14 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

do not complain as we do ; their ignorance does 
not make them afraid ; whilst their sense of his- 
tory imposes a philosophic calm. 

If men feared not poverty and the misfortunes 
they imagine money will keep away, we should 
hear little of the cant of '' getting on/' There may 
be neither wisdom nor happiness in doing nothing 
and caring less, but surely there is a middle course 
— a way by which we may earn our independence 
and find time to enjoy life. I used to be impatient 
of the slow-coach ; now I am impatient of those 
who are rushing to get ahead. Greed is the 
ugliest, as it is the most pitiful, thing on the face 
of the earth ; and greed and ignorance are brothers. 
The business side of Spanish life is full of interest ; 
one finds much to admire in it. 

A singular contrivance in the high towers takes 
the place of bells on Good Friday ; this is the 
'' mattraca " — three long boxes of heavy wood 
arranged round a spindle, with several roughly 
fashioned hammers with rings in their handles, 
through which a rod is run to keep them in place. 
At short intervals during the whole of Good 
Friday the mattraca is turned round, grindstone 
fashion, and creates a most awful din. The ham- 
mers are laws unto themselves, and fall anyhow 
on the boxes, according to their inclination and the 
rate at which the spindle is turned. It is always 
risky to guess at origins ; but as I can find no 
clue to the origin of the mattraca, I fall back on 
the belief that it was intended to inform the 



ACROSS THE YEARS 15 

multitude of the building of, or nailing of Christ 
to^ the cross. 

To know cities I walk round them, and next 
ascend their highest towers. Conscious that I can 
never know Cordova thoroughly, I often climbed 
to the Cathedral tower, which stands independent 
of the Mosque— across a wide orange-planted patio 
— where I could survey the city below ; the river 
and the valley ; the cultivated uplands and the 
wild Sierras — a world complete and rich with the 
story of two thousand years. It is strange that 
we see time's story more clearly in some lands 
than in others. Few can picture life in the British 
Islands two thousand years ago ; but it is easy to 
see over twice that time in the lands around the 
Mediterranean. The South is our cradle — we 
had not our birth in Britain ; we evolved nothing 
there ; the organised concerns came to us ; we 
are nearer to the home of Lucan and Seneca than 
to the tumulus which may be that of Boadicea on 
Primrose Hill. 

As I never could look on a hill without wishing 
to see the prospect on the other side, Cordova's 
tower led me to explore the country in all direc- 
tions round. When looked down upon, the city 
is the colour of curry powder — a soft yellow, 
mingled with grey and white. The roofs are com- 
posed of pale red tiles with a yellowish brown 
lichen feeding upon them, and the city dust and 
whitewash mingle to produce an unvarying tone. 
The oleander, arbutus, gumcistus, rosemary, and 



i6 THE BREATH OF LIFE 

lavender, cover vast areas, and in their season 
make the mountains and valleys beautiful. Most 
lovely of all are the purple and violet bugloss, the 
corn-poppy and cornflower, the purple pea, the 
iris olata, and a yellow cowslip-like flower whose 
name I have forgotten. In Spain one sees to a great 
distance ; for not only are the view points high, 
but the light is strong and the atmosphere dry 
and clear. To take to the hills in spring and look 
upon the world round Cordova is to know some- 
thing of the joy of life. 

Early one morning I went to some high ground 
on the Seville road, there to gather plants of iris 
olata. The sun shone bright and warm, and the 
bag filled ; I ate a crust and sat down to admire 
the immense page of beautiful life that lay open 
before me. Then I slept, and was aroused by a 
pack of twenty-five lean lurcher dogs. They were 
all coupled, save one, and controlled by a man 
dressed in leather who had a rude horn slung at 
the shoulder and was seated on a long-tailed white 
barb. The dogs were a landowner's rabbit pack out 
for exercise. After exchanging the time of the 
day with the huntsman, and receiving a most 
inquisitive sniffing from his dogs, I was left to 
myself for the remainder of the day. But those 
dogs and their primitive keeper gave wings to 
my imagination. I studied the great landscape 
again and again — as millions before me had done. 
I saw Cordova spreading over what are now 
fallow and hunting fields, debris, and the refuse 



A STORIED SCENE 17 

left by the great ancient city. Full in view was 
the site of Medina Azzahra, that wonderful palace 
which Abdulraman the Third built for his slave 
wife, the mother of the warrior Almanzor. To-day 
no man knoweth for a surety where that palace 
stood ; but it is believed to have been about four 
miles distant from the present Cordova, on a 
natural terrace at the foot of the Sierra Morena. 
The great convent of San Geronimo (1405), built 
from the coarser remains of the palace, is in its 
turn in a state of ruin. 

Following the river the eye caught the once 
famous castle of Almodovar, and further on were 
watch - towers, villages, and towns, heaps of 
masonry, lines where roads had run, aqueducts, 
vestiges of bridges and pillars, marking the way 
to the great river. Further off stood the city ; 
but so hoary as to show no signs of life. 

I sat and mused quietly, happy in the reflection 
that time, if it make ruin of all things, brings us 
also to a sense of peace. Once or twice I felt guilty 
of idling — felt I must be up and off and busy ; but 
I checked myself as I said aloud, '' Shall I not 
dare to lie at ease upon the grass, to be warmed 
by the sun, to smell the odours of clean earth 
and pungent weed ; may I not read my history 
here, and for a time rest unconcerned ? What 
need to care about news and the business of the 
world ? Here is enough, for I can dream, and 
ponder over the past.'' I protest because we have 
no paper called *' The Past." If there were such 



iS THE BREATH OF LIFE 

a blessed organ, I verily believe I could summon 
energy enough to read it regularly — but that 
word '' regularly " is to me the most scaring in 
the dictionary ! Nothing scares me like the thought 
of having to do anything regularly. Ugh ! 

Soothed and made strong by the lessons of the 
day, I passed the evening in a cafe where the 
thr^e or four hundred men present were interested, 
for an hour or two, by the curiosity of a box of 
wooden matches of English manufacture ! These 
are the children of Europe, and that is why one 
rests with them. 

The garden of the British Consul is somewhere 
about two thousand years old ! It is in the heart 
of early Roman Cordova, and has been occupied 
in succession by Roman, Goth, Moor, and Span- 
iard. The site would suggest human dwellings 
from the beginnings of civilisation, for it is on 
gently rising ground, safe from, yet near to, the 
river. This old garden is surrounded by walls 
as high as three-storeyed houses ; parts of it are 
said to be Roman. I pruned the roses and the 
vines, and did some digging, and grew to be 
happy there. I wished to remain, cloistered 
and confined ; a glad prisoner among scented 
flowers ; the vine, the orange, and lemon ; 
breadths of blue and white violets ; heliotrope 
that climbed to the second-storey windows, and 
the babbling of water-brooks which ran by the 
brick-bordered paths and beds. Only the past 
has a true voice. I idle that I may hear, and 



LIFE IS NOW OR NEVER 19 

close my eyes that I may see the many-coloured 
pageant of Time. 

When I had worked myself out of a job in the 
garden, the Consul came home, and with him, his 
world. We fell to talking of living in the day and 
looking back — my way — as against '' working to 
save '' for the future (as if one could do any- 
thing of the kind), and getting forward, as he 
affects to persuade himself he does. Yet I notice 
that he feels weighed with the cares of life more 
than I. This may mean he has a higher moral 
sense ; but perhaps it does not. Still, he cannot 
alter his nature ; nor can I. Anyhow, I pruned 
the roses, tied the weak ones to upright lines to 
aid their flow of sap, and felt I had done a little 
to revive waning life in Cordova's ancient bones. 



CHAPTER II 

THIRD CLASS 

TAKE the first-class for comfort, the second 
for dullness, the third for company; and 
one is not likely to go wrong in Spain. To get 
more animal heat, save money and know the 
delights of good company, I travelled third. The 
morning was intensely cold when we set out from 
Ronda to Malaga, snow capping the heights and 
hoar-frost spanghng the banks and timber wall 
of the railway station. Here, as in Ireland, most 
of the officials are employed in ringing bells and 
blowing whistles, and yet many who intend to 
travel lose the train, for there's a nasty habit of 
ending the clanging and screeching five or ten 
minutes before starting time, and then allowing 
the train to steal out of the station quietly, like a 
thief in the night ; and one can only imagine what 
trouble and choice Spanish is caused thereby. 
Our train was a particularly stealthy brute, and 
fairly winked at its own cleverness in leaving some 
poor wretch in the lurch at almost every stopping 
place. But back to the thirds. 

We are seventy-two in number, in an open 
carriage of six divisions. 



THE MAID IN SPAIN 21 

To keep us in order there are two military police, 
two carabineers, or armed road guards, and two 
other soldier-like policemen with three harmless- 
looking prisoners. There are also five or six 
soldiers in uniform, and as many more wearing — 
that was all their uniform — forage caps — pre- 
sumably these are recruits. The rest of the com- 
pany is made up of small business men, farmers, 
and market women, the latter with overflowing 
baskets as big as themselves. Then there are boys 
going from home for the first time, and looking 
very sad as the familiar landscape fades away. 
There are quite a number of young women, too, 
for Malaga is a large city, and servants claim 
higher wages there than in the country. The girls 
are all in black — plain in style as the garments of 
a nun, though they wear fine scarfs or shawls about 
their shoulders, and have their hair beautifully 
dressed with flowers, ribbons, or lace. The 
Spanish women are born coiffeuses, and hold their 
heads with such pride as to make the plainest face 
amongst them in some way attractive. A girl 
near us is a real Southern beauty of twenty. She 
was married but six months ago, is now a widow, 
and is going into service for a home and one dollar 
a month. Three shillings and fourpence — no more 
and no less. Little as she may know of the ways 
of English housekeeping, she is so beautifully clean, 
fresh, and strong, and has such a sweet, honest 
face, that she would prove a godsend to the 
average British household. This girl talked with 



22 THIRD CLASS 

a neighbour ; the others sat quiet and were dis- 
regarded by the men, for it is contrary to custom 
and most improper for a man to enter into con- 
versation with, or take the sHghtest notice of, a 
girl when she is alone. The woman of Spain is 
influenced by the Moorish occupation, which ex- 
tended over nearly 800 years. Where the Moor 
did not settle, the Spanish woman is a Latin in 
the creed of custom ; but in the ancient strong- 
hold of the Moor she is often found to be as 
Moorish as the woman of Morocco. All the elderly 
women wear black handkerchiefs over their heads, 
and cover their noses with black shawls as 
Moorish women do theirs with white. Spanish 
women are mistresses of the needle, and few 
nations equal them in the art of fine sewing. 
Hence one can study embroideries and laces, 
dainty collars, babies' caps and shoes, as well as 
the flowered waistcoats and fancy shirt fronts 
of the men. It is all very charming and true to 
one's dream of the peasant and the life which 
begins and ends in quiet labour. 

The first part of the country is very poor, and 
one literally shivers when looking on its churlish 
slopes and half-impotent valleys, and realises the 
splendid courage that keeps the people true to their 
land and the labour which yields so little return. 
Of all there is to see in rural Spain, nothing charms 
one more than the faces of the peasant-folk, more 
especially of the elderly men. They are nearly all 
Lord Thurlows — they look so profoundly wise. 



THE CATETO— COUNTRYMAN 2^ 

The Spanish peasant is always clean shaven — at 
any rate, he gets a clean shave now and then. 
Meet a company of country Spaniards passing into 
a town, and they look like so many stage brigands. 
Meet them returning, and they appear as so many 
pleasant-faced human sheep. They are shaved 
and clean again. 

This same sheepish peasant has a mother wit 
of great swiftness and charm. He never states 
the simple fact, since he is always equal to a fine 
figure of speech. Even his boasting is splendid ; 
he does it with such cool conviction that you are 
bound to believe him. Always a simple soul, he 
has high courage, and is, I verily believe, the 
peasant gentleman of Europe. He is profoundly 
respectful to all tradition and custom, and shows 
his real nature by the way he resents any offence 
against his country. Having acquired the fine art 
of starving gracefully, he must needs be thin, with 
a clear eye, and alert for the chance of assisting in 
the concerns of his neighbour ; neglect of social 
duty being the crime he ranks highest. 

Of words he is without end ; but as they are 
either musical or eloquent of meaning the more he 
talks the better one is pleased. 

The conversation in the third-class carriage was 
almost entirely of money — or the want of it, bar- 
gains, and lack of work and bread, for the land 
is very poor and the people in a chronic state of 
want. It is a stock saying in Spain (goodness 
knows how old) that '' the first element is bread " 



24 THIRD CLASS 

— one hears the word '' pan " twenty times to that 
of any other. Where friends recognised each other 
or joined or left the train, there was always much 
to please, and the soul warmed to the words of 
parting — '' Always felicity/' and '' Be you with 
God until we meet again/' For economy those 
who could afford a bite had brought it with them. 
One man, much better off than the others, had a 
baked kid, and so we broke the Levitical law, as 
we ate it in its mother's milk. Another man had 
a small skin-sack of wine ; so we again happily 
broke the law, this time of Mahomet. In spite of 
these and other offences, the train kept to the 
rails, and we travelled on. A mother, with several 
children, had boiled eggs for their sustenance. The 
eggs seemed of no account, as compared with the 
shells, which they stuck on their noses, that they 
might look beautiful or terrifying. Poorer folk ate 
acorns, raw or roasted, also lupin seed, the turnip- 
like stump of the native palm, and other odds and 
ends in great variety. 

Spaniards are good-natured, and never eat, 
drink, or smoke without offering the lion's share 
to the stranger and friend alike. It is polite and 
customary to refuse till hard pressed, but the 
stranger is expected to accept, and so we sampled 
a good deal of stuff, good, bad, and indifferent. 
In spite of this, at a change-station restaurant we 
got a six-course meal of deliciously cooked food and 
clean, sound wine, all for about is. 4d. in English 
money. I mention this because the Spaniards have 



A MEAL AND SOME EXTRAS 25 

before all others the art of serving a meal. In 
England, unless one goes to a distinctly expensive 
place, the aim seems to be to put as complete a 
meal as possible on one or two plates. In Spain 
a meal is a present joy and a help over the remain- 
der of the road. Of course, we smelt garlic ; simply 
smelt or scented it — that's the word. One should 
not know that one scents or tastes garlic ; then 
it is a most appetising and comforting factor in a 
meal. Our only real grievance is roused by the 
railway bell and the shrieking whistle. This in- 
tolerable combination of noises began almost the 
moment we sat down to dine, and did not end till 
after the first course was disposed of. We got up 
a row between the waiter and some of the band 
so as to save our own time for the business of eat- 
ing and drinking ; but as all the performers could 
play and talk at the same time, we were not com- 
forted much. Then the crowd took sides ; some 
said the train would, and some that it wouldn't, 
go without us. Anyhow, we caught it, and a good 
many words in the vernacular of the province. 

More than half our journey of 150 miles lay 
through tunnels and across bridges, spanning splen- 
did chasms, in wild and absolutely sterile moun- 
tains. Here and there a torrent leapt or fell and 
boiled, passing on with any particles of soil its 
churning may have made, and never depositing a 
grain which might be seized and husbanded by 
the peasant. Then we passed into a stronger light, 
and where the sun shone warm, and there were 



26 THIRD CLASS 

wide, roaming purple hills dotted with pure white 
cots and little squares, or irregular windings of 
green olive and orange trees, growing wherever 
sufficient soil and moisture might be found. The 
train itself seemed glad to escape from the eternally 
bare and blighted hills, and rattled on at a great 
pace, fairly preening itself in the green warm light 
which bathed the land of the orange and the vine. 
Then once more we shot into hills, and climbed 
and panted and choked in the tunnels, and on 
coming forth again saw long winding valleys and 
men far below, no larger than ants — and, like 
them, busy — scratching at their mother earth. 
Our final run was through a valley near the coast, 
where oranges filled the railway platforms, and 
boys and girls sat in rows packing the fruit into 
cases. Six a penny, and very large and sweet. 
This woke the desires of most of us, and the whole 
company reeked of orange, even to the exclusion 
of tobacco smoke, which is saying a good deal. 

The houses are pretty and homelike now, for the 
land is generous, and beautiful too. Everybody 
seems a good deal richer and happier, and boast- 
ing increases, as if all in sight were ours, and life 
a perpetual journey and holiday. Ten miles from 
our destination the women began to get their 
parcels ready. Then the landscape faded, for we 
were all self-centred and concerned for the uncer- 
tain life ahead. Unused to train travel, nearly all 
the men stood up, and so filled the carriage that 
it was dark, stuffy, and horrible. By and by we 



THE ROAD ETERNAL 27 

smelt the air of the ocean, saw masts and sails, and 
a moment later the wide blue plain of the sea — 
that Camino eternal, which is an everlastingly 
open road and way of hope for us all. 



CHAPTER III 

A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

TO gain a knowledge of the conditions of life 
and the nature of some rural industries in 
this locality, I passed a winter in the hills between 
Malaga and Granada. The country ran up to 
several thousand feet ; and the estate farmed lay 
exposed to the snows and raw cold of the Sierra 
Nevada. Our house occupied a gap in the ranges 
whence we looked over numberless hills, deep 
gorges, isolated houses, the mighty Sierras, and 
in clear weather we could see the Mediterranean, 
with its African shore sixty miles away. The in- 
dustry of the region consisted of cultivating wine 
grapes, the growing of olives, of evergreen oak 
for timber and charcoal, and the cultivation of 
a few vegetable crops for local consumption. 
Estates of this character employ few regular hands. 
It is the custom to engage a large number of men 
to perform a seasonable operation, and then to 
discharge them till they are wanted for the harvest. 
In Spain rural employment does not run to more 
than seven months in the year ; the rest of the 
time is a terrible fight for the workers to keep 
body and soul together. Over a hundred and 

28 



THE PEASANTS' LOT 29 

fifty men were brought together on the Pineda 
estate. Where they came from seemed a mystery, 
for looking out on the land it appeared almost 
destitute of life ; but tucked away between the 
hills were villages. It was the gente, or village 
people, of these little communities who formed the 
labour supply. The great majority of the men 
came in rags ; their bodies lean. They looked 
hungry and wore a hunted look, which made one 
almost afraid of them . But they were good at 
heart ; their only failing was an unconquerable 
hatred for those whom they thought favoured 
by an additional week's work or an extra penny 
a day. 

It was the custom to engage men in groups. 
Each gente as it came along would elect its spokes- 
man, with whom the manager dealt, sorting and 
sizing-up the group and offering a price for each 
man's labour according to what he judged he was 
worth. Most of the men had been cold and hungry 
for months, and were so weak as to be incapable 
at the beginning of doing a good day's work. 
Hence it became necessary to feed them well and 
work them lightly for the first week or two. The 
food consisted of fat bacon, cod-fish, olive oil, 
chick-peas, rice, and potatoes, boiled into a slushy 
soup. There was also bread, black figs, dried 
plums, and a few other odds and ends of a filling 
if not a fattening character. At six, or long before 
daylight, the men would rise from the sheds where 
they lay all night in their clothes, and covered 



30 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

\vith no more than a single blanket or plaited 
string-rug, and without any sort of wash, would 
each take a piece of bread and a handful of black 
figs, and proceed to the work of the day. This 
consisted of cleaning and pruning ^dnes, and cover- 
ing the roots where the soil had been washed away 
by the force of storm-water. Other groups pruned 
trees, t\4ng the wood into pack-bundles, w^hilst 
the inferior timber and brushwood were converted 
into charcoal. 

By the aid of these men over thirteen hundred 
acres of land were cleaned and cultivated during 
the \rinter. Not a single animal was employed by 
us, except to carry food and water to the labourers 
and to bring back timber or charcoal. All this 
hand labour was a necessity, for the country was 
so steep it was impossible to employ a plough or 
any other draught implement. To get much work 
done the groups from the various villages were 
placed side by side. This led to their racing, and 
trjdng to outdo each other — a habit which the 
Capataz — overseer — approved, but which de- 
veloped much bad blood and a good deal of strife. 
In fact, the danger of rinas — rows — was so great 
that a number of rural guards were employed with 
guns to stand over the men. The morning would 
see every group friendly with the others ; but as 
the day wore on and six men of one group would 
fail to keep in line with six of another, or where 
two groups were of equal numbers, one often com- 
posed of the 3^oung men and lusty, passed the 



JEALOUSY AND STRIFE 31 

other, consisting of enfeebled or less capable 
workers, blood and temper would boil. I noticed 
that the crookedness of the human line across 
the hill-side varied in proportion to the amount 
of anger and jealousy abroad. I used to sit and 
calculate where the onslaught would come from, 
when I saw there were obvious signs. Sometimes 
those who were lagging would start a song, and 
show great courage in singing, though they failed 
in physical strength. But more often the leading 
men would start the singing, and at times one of 
these would drop out and, standing erect, sing a 
song in praise of his village. The comparison was 
usually of rats and mice, or mules and donkeys : 
thus : 

" In my village we are rats, astute and strong ; 
In other pueblos only weak mice are to be found "; 
or, 

" If you would have your cargo carried straight home, 
The mules and men of my pueblo can see it done"; 
or, 

" I heard of a village where all the mules are donkeys, 
And when the load slips the men are not strong enough to 
put it straight again ! " 

These couplets and snatches, sung with great 
glee and well-directed expression, would send the 
blood of the losing gentes to boiling-point. Lan- 
guage is not necessary to the Spaniard ; with his 
elbow alone he can communicate with fidelity 
every thought and emotion. There would be a 
looking along the lines ; tools would strike the 
ground or grip the vine as if with bitter hate ; 



32 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

hats would be tipped back from foreheads ; hand- 
kerchiefs retied on the head ; spitting would be- 
come violent ; the men would chew rather than 
smoke their cigarettes. Then with a '' Come men," 
from one who could no longer endure the strain, 
a group would rise like locusts and fly at the 
antagonists. The tools became weapons — the 
mattock-like spade — an immense hoe with a heavy 
ring — and the pruning - knife — a hatchet, sickle 
and sword in one, — a truly dreadful weapon ! 
Whatever was in the hand was good enough to 
do some damage with. 

We had no serious fights during the whole winter, 
but never a day went by without some display of 
force and fury and appeal for fair play. A year or 
two previously no fewer than four men had been 
killed in feudal fights on the estate. A common 
source of jealousy lay in the selection of the branch 
overseers, for nearly every group claimed to be 
made up of men born to direct the labours of 
others. As only a few foremen were needed, the 
favoured gentes were the best hated and most 
maHgned. In selecting foremen we heard rare 
tales of personal ability. The custom was to select 
men for their swearing capacity ; for if a man 
could not raise the saints or possessed a splendid 
private vocabulary of epithets and ugly expres- 
sions, he was distinctly unfitted for the duties of 
a Capataz. For the fun of the thing, when we had 
Hstened to a man's account of himself, we would 
say discouragingly, '' But you are no good at 



THE ART OF CURSING 33 

abuse." At this he would jump back, as far as 
his legs and his indignation would carry him ; and 
lifting his rag of a hat or handkerchief, make a 
bow that was full of denial, obeisance, and appeal. 
'' Seiior,'' he w^ould inquire, *' have you heard me ? 
Is there anyone who has not heard me ? Am I 
not known as the word-slinger ? My God, I am ! '' 
Then, '' Stop, senor ; listen ! '' And no doubt we 
had to ! Of course, it is impossible to give any idea 
of the epithets and the string of abuse such a 
master in the art would pour out upon an imaginary 
group of lazy rascals working under his direction. 
And sometimes he would praise us without a 
blush, telling the men we were the best employers, 
generous with food and pay, had the kindest 
hearts, even lost money in our desire to support 
those who had not the sense to know when they 
were well off. No matter wherever else we failed 
in our judgment, we were generally safe in choos- 
ing men who could swear well. But this does not 
shock much in Spain, where everybody swears, 
and not always quietly ; the swear-words are 
ugly, cruel, often quite terrifying, only that repeti- 
tion through familiarising softens them, and it is 
only when out of Spain that one realises its full 
significance. 

When the men had become fairly sleek and 
lusty, they would petition for a reduced ration. 
This was in measured quantities of flour, peas, 
rice, bacon-fat, and other articles allowed per man 
or group. The petitioners would ask that they 



34 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

might be put on three-quarter or half rations, and 
some as low as quarter rations, where the full 
ration was barely sufficient to sustain. Their 
object was to save and take home unused rations. 
There is no Sunday in the country parts of 
Spain, no fixed hours of labour or anything like a 
full-stop to it. People work when they can or 
must ; hence a young man will work from twenty- 
five to thirty days on end, and then rest for two 
or three days. An older man may work for a 
fortnight or three weeks ; quite an old man will 
take a rest once a week. But on our estate we 
paid off every third week. The wages ran from 
one to two reals a day — that is twopence to 
fourpence — in addition to the rough food and 
shelter ; but there were always some men who 
worked for nothing, for when we could employ no 
more they would say, '' I will stay for food only.'' 
Even this was refused them, but sometimes they 
could not be turned away. One man was a most 
extraordinary character. He was mad ; but his 
was the madness that keeps others to reason. He 
was the biggest, liveliest, and most awesome 
person in all the world, I believe. He was about 
thirty years of age, nearly seven feet in height, 
very straight-limbed, and had unusually long 
arms. He did not shave, but clipped his beard 
into a black stubble. His garments were nothing 
but rags. A rag bound his hair into a shock ; a 
sheepskin apron was split and tied round each 
leg to as low as the knee. In the wildest weather, 



AN ENTHRALLING FIGURE 35 

and it was always perishing, he wore no coat, 
and his tattered shirt had no sleeves below his 
muscles. His feet and ankles were swathed in 
rags and leather straps ; and the dirt caked over 
him would probably have weighed more than the 
entire material of his garments. He came re- 
peatedly before I told him he might stay for 
a meal or two. 

In front of the house, beyond a ravine, there 
was a high promontory, planted with vines, and 
an escarpment fully five hundred feet deep. A 
track passed from its base, and it was customary 
for the prunings of the vines to be thrown from 
the cliff into the valley, and thence brought home 
by pack-mules. I put my giant madman to 
gather and tie the prunings into bundles ; and, 
knowing how Spaniards detest working alone, I 
thought that he, mad as he was, would soon tire 
of solitude and clear off. Not a bit of it ! 
He had a wonderful liking for work, and dis- 
regarded the groups of men on the hill-sides. A 
pay-day came, but he did not appear. He seemed 
afraid to come in, lest he should be cleared off 
with the rest. From the house I could see him 
working like a slave, running at each necessary 
piece of pruning as if it were alive and would escape 
him ; tucking it with fury under his great long arm, 
then twisting a binder round each bundle when it 
was complete, and hurrying to the edge of the 
cliff. Here he would raise it high above his head ; 
and, with a mighty thrust, fling it clear of the 



36 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

rocks, and bend over to watch it fall light as a leaf 
into the valley below. Words give no idea of the 
strength of the picture or the emotions roused 
by the behaviour of that man. First of all, the 
reader should know something of Spanish gesture ; 
he should know what a poor Spaniard feels when 
he is giving and not asking ; he should know 
something of that reason which is madness, and 
of that madness which is reason. I knew my 
man sufficiently well to imagine his face as he 
stood out there on the edge of the cliff. He had 
wonderful eyes, and all his face was full of ex- 
pression. If mad within, he was eloquent without. 
I felt I knew his thoughts and feelings, and grew 
to be as fascinated by him as he was concerned for 
himself. Yet he did not count. The work and his 
strength were the only things that mattered. He 
seemed mad only in his impatience to show that 
he was neither mad nor incompetent. He could 
work, he would work, and he did work. He was 
out before day, never home before dark ; there 
was for him no wet day, no snowy day, no Sunday. 
Time after time he had to scratch through the 
snow for his prunings ; he piled a heap of stones 
at a point of the cliff, so that he might reach it in 
safety when it was snow-capped and uncertain, 
and throw from there his bundles into space ! 
Pay-day came, and another three or more ; but 
he never appeared. At times I confronted him, 
and gave him a cigarette ; a shrug of the shoulders 
was his thanks. When the prunings were gathered 



IN ALL THINGS TRUE 37 

I felt I must keep him to other work on the ridge. 
So I hinted that he might collect the loose stones 
and make little supporting walls under vines, 
which were liable to be denuded of soil. His joy 
at finding his work recognised was beautiful to 
see ; and though he never changed in his attitude, 
all his words, which were few, and his gestures, 
which were many, comprised a great boast of his 
power to work. Whenever he shook his head as 
a display of ability and strength I knew he was 
right, to the extent that I trembled. From his 
great height he would send a sweeping glance down 
his ragged front, put out a foot, and v/ith a huge 
hand smite his chest, as if to say, '' Is all this 
mighty frame to go for nothing ? '' and there was 
a look of contempt for the mere mice of men whose 
claims were always recognised. He was as one 
dumb, 3^et possessed of a great truth which must 
be spoken. I became enthralled by him. I did not 
want to understand any more of him, or to com- 
pare him with other saner men ; I was content 
with this wonderful animal, for such he was : 
there was no trace of cunning, meanness, or 
deception about him. He worked for four solid 
months out on that ridge, often in the bitterest 
weather ; alone, unfriended, and unpaid. One 
morning he was told to come in ; there was no 
more work, and he must go home. He bowed 
with the dignity of an ambassador, and said 
by a sign, ''It is your will." I intended paying 
him as much as the others, but was called away, 



38 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

and returning, found him gone ! He had kept his 
word, had worked for pan solo — for bread only — 
and was satisfied. But I was not content to let 
him go on those terms. I sent down to the pueblo, 
where he had a crooning old mother, and asked 
him to come back. Then I gave him money, 
food, and a matchbox full of tobacco. He was 
not overcome, for he was unalterable. His mad- 
ness was complete in so far that it left him in- 
capable of varying his emotions. But when he 
had gone Pineda lost much of its charm for me. 
I used often to look from my window, or from 
the verandah, at all hours, but in vain ; not again 
could I see that great rugged statue of a man 
with his arms outstretched towards the bundles 
of faggots as he hurled them over the edge of the 
cliff. 

When we decided to pay off we would send word 
to Malaga and a cavalcade would set out with the 
bullion. Two, sometimes four, mounted police 
would be chosen ; there would be a cashier and 
his assistant, also mounted. The four or six men 
would guard a pack-mule laden with the cash. 
The money, all in copper, was worth about forty 
pounds sterling ; but judging by the faces of the 
party, the display of guns, revolvers, and other 
weapons, one might think the guard was in charge 
of the Royal jewels of Spain, or of some far richer 
country. On arriving, the money would be put 
in a strong-room, and the premises fortified against 
attack. This was nothing more than the survival 



PAY DAY 39 

of custom, for there was nothing to fear from 
brigands or from our own men. 

Owing to the enormous number of copper coins 
to be counted and tested — for there is a great deal 
of bad money in Spain — it took from early morn- 
ing to long past noon to pay out those forty 
pounds. We had three rooms in a row ; in the 
centre one were the money and the clerks. The 
doorway on one side showed a room full of men 
waiting to be paid ; in the doorway on the other 
side was a huge stone which might have told a 
long story. It was shaped something like a cottage 
loaf and stood more than a foot high. The top was 
hollowed partly by nature, partly by the beating 
it got. Two men stood on either side of this stone, 
and on a labourer receiving a hat full of coppers 
he would go straight to the stone, with all eyes 
watching him to see he did not make any exchange 
of the coins. At the stone he would start testing 
his money, casting down every coin with such 
force as to cause it to rebound into his hand, when 
if good he would toss it into another hat held to 
accommodate him. This beating of the stone was 
incessant, for as Spanish money runs down to the 
tenth of a penny, the number of coins tested ran 
to many thousands. Some men were clever 
palmists, and would bring along bad coins and 
substitute them for good ones. We often found it 
necessary to strip men to detect fraud. One man 
had his arm smeared with wax into which the coins 
would sink and stick quite easily. This paying 



40 A WINTER IN THE HILLS 

business was most fatiguing, and at the same time 
genuinely amusing, though the humorous points 
were sometimes too fine or too coarse to bear 
telHng. When all had been paid they would form 
into groups and collect what rations were due to 
them from the kitchen. Numberless little leather 
bags, bottles, and baskets of esparto-grass, would 
be drawn forth, and the various amounts of oil, 
rice, fat, and other food-stuffs poured into them. 
Then marching parties would be formed, for in 
their superstitious fear they were afraid to go 
alone with such a burden of riches about them. 
Their politeness and good feeling was touching. 
Never shy, the Spaniard is always equal to ex- 
pressing himself well ; and as we stood by the 
verandah, or at the corner of the house whence ran 
the mountain-path, man after man would come 
forward and lifting his hat and voice at the same 
time would call out, 'Xaballero!" and then turn- 
ing to his comrades, '' This is the noble sehor. 
This is the gentleman we have had pleasure in 
working for. This is the real soul of Spain. This 
is the time of the sun. These are the good days. 
We have all been happy here. We have all been 
well treated here. We are always glad to come 
here ! We wish for a good harvest here ! Good 
health here ! Good life here ! Is it not so, gentle- 
men ? '* *' Yes ! Yes ! it is so ! '' they would 
exclaim, breaking into further praise, salute, and 
so away. As they journeyed down the first steep 
mountain-path they would become more or less 



EACH BEARS HIS BURDEN HOME 41 

detached and burst into hearty song, and this for 
those of us who remained was the happiest time of 
all. It was so gladdening to reflect on all the 
homes that would be cheered that night by the 
contents of those little sacks and baskets, hats, 
handkerchiefs, and pockets. Half a mile or so 
below, where the men looked small as children, 
were three or four divergent paths ; there they 
would gather to make up their private differences, 
shake hands, wish each other God-speed and de- 
part their several ways. Then the voices would 
be heard in a different key, for the slopes and 
ravines produced very hollow sounds, some of 
which would come up long after the men were out 
of sight. To tell the truth, I was always very sad 
at the close of those pay-days ; there was nothing 
hopeful in any of them for the men whose lives 
depended on the little we had to offer. From 
youths to old men they were all as slaves ; and 
though skilful in their work, there was no chance 
of bettering their lot. So in spite of an instructive 
and in some ways a restful time, I was glad when 
the winter was over to leave Pineda in the hills 
and share the more genial life of the toilers in a 
distant valley. 



CHAPTER IV 

MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

I PASSED a summer on the Vega of Malaga. 
Some friends would have kept me in their 
large house, where were many servants, and ad- 
vantages would have attended me ; but as I de- 
sired to be alone or amongst the more primitive 
Spaniards, I took up my quarters in a misrario — 
penance-chamber — the last remaining portion of 
an old Bernardine monastery standing among the 
hills of Cabello. Two or three rooms had been 
added to the place that it might accommodate a 
rural guard. I arranged with an old woman to 
keep house for me at nine pesetas fifty, a week — 
about six-and-eightpence — and for this I was to 
get bread and goat's milk in the early morning, a 
breakfast of three plates at ten, and a dinner of 
four plates at six. There were also to be wine and 
coffee, and not less than a real was to be spent in 
meat every day. A few bits of furniture and some 
flesh-pots were hired, and we started to keep 
house. Not over-impressed by Maria's personal 
appearance and sense of order, I insisted on every- 
thing being kept faultlessly clean and straight, 
and strictly forbade her to interfere with my 

42 



MEAT AND SOMETHING MORE 43 

writing materials. So anxious was she, at first, to 
please, that she regularly cleared off my blotting 
paper if it showed the smallest spot, a most ex- 
asperating experience, as it was very dear and 
difficult to obtain at that time, black sand being 
the only blotter in that part of Spain. Maria was 
a great gossip, and, unable to get any local news 
from me, she would go every morning to a spring, 
there to wash the pots and pans with wisps of 
esparto-grass and sand, clean and prepare the 
vegetables, and wait for the butcher. This worthy 
would appear sitting on the end of a Jack donkey, 
with his bare feet kicking at the animal between 
the long bags of meat w^hich hung from its sides. 
When Maria had got all the news from him, and 
he had extracted from her the eccentricities of the 
foreign sehor, she would dive into one of his meat 
bags for handfuls of the little bits of lean goat or 
veal. In Spain animals are not jointed, but as 
many of the slaughterers as can manage it, get 
round the carcase, and literally pick the flesh from 
the bones, putting the lean in one heap and the fat 
and gristle in another. As a matter of fact, there 
is never any fat, but a certain amount of skinny 
tissue, cartilage, and rough matter, which is the 
portion of the poor. We were rich in those days, 
and ate a real's worth of lean meat every day. 
After Maria had mauled, pulled about, and care- 
fully examined scores of little pieces of meat, she 
would decide on two or three, shove them in her 
pocket, shoulder the pans and vegetables, tell the 



44 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

butcher to ''Go with God," and clamber up the 
rocky path and into my room. There she would 
regale me with the news of the day, and rolling 
from side to side on the little stool would exclaim, 
*' What on earth am I sitting on ? " and then, 
clapping her hand down, '' Lord, it's our meat ! " 
I would shoo her out, and insist on its never being 
put in her pocket again, but it made no difference. 
Whatever vicissitudes the meat may have passed 
through before it left the butcher, it got a rough 
time afterwards, for Maria insisted on the carne 
needing air. She would hang it on a nail in the 
wall, and as it was hot weather and there were 
any number of flies about, the stuff was filthy by 
the time she took it down to dress it for the table. 
Sometimes I would abuse her and ask why she had 
been so long at the spring with the butcher, but 
she always got out of it by saying, '' I was telling 
him about you " ; and when I inquired what she 
could possibly say about me, she would laugh out 
defiantly, '' I was amusing him with your foolish- 
ness of yesterday." In self-defence I must explain 
that everything I did, which was new to Maria, 
was tontoria, or absurdity. 

When the meat was taken down from the wall, 
Maria would wash it in vinegar and salt, until 
every bit became steel-blue with terror; then she 
would start to beat, stretch, and roll each piece, 
until it was almost as thin as a sausage-skin, and 
became a fritter, a kind of brown-paper pancake, 
impregnated with most mysterious and appetis- 



MARIA SHINES AS A COOK 45 

ing flavours and odours. It would be dipped 
in oil, in capsicum juice, after that in a kind 
of tomato sauce, once more in bruised almond 
and garlic ; and lastly would be smeared with 
the butter-like paste of boiled egg-plant. None 
of these things, ^however, added to the sub- 
stance or size of the piece of meat. It could be put 
in the mouth easily if first rolled up, though in 
Spain one is supposed to eat a crumb at a time, 
offering thanks to God between each morsel. In 
fact, nothing brings out the reverential spirit or 
such hardy boasting as the consumption of meat. 
It is not at all uncommon to meet adults among 
the peasants who have never tasted meat except- 
ing bacon, the chorizo, or a wild bird. 

Another of Maria's favourite dishes was the 
bolsillo — little purse. This she would make from 
a mere film of meat filled with minced and very 
delicately-flavoured vegetables mixed with yerba 
buena — good herbs — selected by herself in the 
Campo. This would be gathered into a kind of 
Granny purse, deftly skewered and dropped into 
boiling oil. Another of Maria's dishes, and the 
most deceptive of all, was the berza — a mixture 
of chopped meat and vegetables made into a rich 
brown stew, and so cunningly manipulated that it 
was almost impossible to tell one ingredient from 
the other. Maria was very proud of this. 

She was married; Don Luis, her husband, a tall, 
gaunt old man, was nearly blind. He got his 
living by plaiting esparto-grass and sack-making 



46 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

on a large lagar, or farm, ten to twelve miles away. 
Every few days he w^ould come home for a rest, 
and when he was expected I usually gave Maria 
an extra penny or two for meat and an additional 
bottle of wine. Don Luis, though very thin and 
with painfully weak eyes, remained a fine-looking 
and attractive man, but as a true Spaniard he 
must needs be a great boaster. I often waited his 
coming before commencing the evening meal ; but 
out of an innate politeness and respect he never 
would sit down with me, but would lean against 
the door and descant on the inexhaustible riches 
and luxury of life in Spain, turning every now and 
then to inquire if I did not approve his remark. 
When the time came for him to have his supper, 
Maria would seat him on a stool, place another 
with the dish in front of him ; and then, standing 
behind, with one hand on his shoulder, would feed 
him as if he w^ere a child, all the time talking of 
my generosity and asking if he tasted this and 
that. She had a greedy love of meat, and when 
the dish was a mixed one would say repeatedly, 
'' Meat, meat, meat, man ! " and poke bits of 
vegetable into his mouth ; then she would pick 
out bits of meat, put them into her own mouth, 
and wink at me ! And they had been married 
thirty years ! 

This stuffing so increased Don Luis' pride that 
it constantly reminded him of the wealth and 
prodigality of life in his own village. When he 
could eat no more, or when Maria gave him 



VILLAGE CHAMPIONS 47 

breathing space between the courses, he would 
throw his head from side to side in a searching 
manner — for in the house he was almost blind — 
and would inquire ''Adonde, adonde, Don Car- 
los ? Where are you, Don Carlos '' ; and then, 
*' This reminds me of my village. When I was a 
young man every one was so fat that very few 
could walk as we walk nowadays, and the mules 
and donkeys were all hollow-backed from carrying 
the heavy crops of grain. All the meat was very 
tender, because, with plenty to eat, everything got 
fat very young." As he spoke Maria, standing 
arms akimbo, would put out her tongue — ^jealousy 
and disbelief personified — as if to say, ''You old 
liar ! " Then, unable to bear the strain any longer, 
she would yell at him, ''Anda!" — get out — and 
then, flinging herself beseechingly at me, would 
say, '' Listen, Don Carlos, it's not at all true,*' 
and raising her voice, she would cap all his boasting 
by shouting, '' In my village we have a fountain 
with two spouts.'* This would fairly finish Don 
Luis, for Maria's boast was unanswerable. As a 
matter of fact, pure water and a continuous flow 
through one mean spout is equal to great riches 
in Spain. Another clincher of Maria's was that 
she had seen as many as three bonfires in her 
village on the eve of San Juan. 

The simple truth amounted to this. Don Luis 
and Maria were natives of two villages about six 
miles apart. Once upon a time they travelled 
half-way, met, and married ; and went off at a 



48 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

tangent, where they had been ever since. They 
had, at any rate, been in a constant state of war 
regarding the merits and beauties of their re- 
spective pueblos ; neither had ever seen the 
other's village, and though so near to both, some 
peculiar pride, or disinclination to condescend to 
so much as a visit, kept this old couple divided, 
and jealous to the verge of misery. Don Luis' 
boast was in some way justified, for his village, 
Alhourin, is known as one of the most beautiful in 
Spain. It is Moorish, as its name implies, and 
remains one of the finest examples of Moorish 
small domestic architecture. So much admired is 
Alhourin, that Maria must have heard its praises 
sung a thousand times, which must have been 
little short of a bitter grief to her, for her own 
pueblo of Cartama was very pretty. Sometimes 
I would offer to take her to Alhourin, at which 
she would grow churlish, make elaborate excuses, 
and find good reasons why we should go to Car- 
tama instead. 

About half a mile away were a few cottages, 
the boys from which often came to stand in the 
large doorway to watch the stranger eat meat. 
These boys ranged from four or five to about ten, 
and were practically naked. This did not matter 
much, as it was decidedly hot weather. Curious, 
hungry, and much afraid, they would grip each 
other's hands tightly, and stand in a stiff row. 
Maria was very jealous, and would throw water 
or anything else at them, but once they were in 



MARIA GOES INTO BUSINESS 49 

my presence I encouraged them to stay. As the 
meal proceeded in full view of these boys, one 
would say boastfully, '' Fve had it once " ; then 
another would perk up with '' I've had it twice,'' 
or '' three times " ; then a third miserable little 
fellow would wipe his face in his only garment — his 
shirt — and grizzle out, '' I haven't had it at all ! " 
They were comparing notes of the times I had 
given them meat. My memory was fairly good, 
and I knew pretty well which boys had been most 
favoured : then I would beckon to one, and they 
would all advance in line, afraid to come singly, 
each holding his hand as far in front of the others 
as he possibly could, all of them saying in chorus, 
'' I haven't had it at all, sefior," Whoever got the 
bit of meat — and it was rarely bigger than a 
walnut — would hold it in his curled forefinger, 
lick it hard and industriously, then, rolling it in 
the skirt of his shirt, he would grab the wad in 
his hand, and fly down the bare slopes, anxious to 
get home with the prize before his comrades 
should wheedle or force it from him. There was 
something ludicrous, but always much more that 
was pathetic, in the behaviour of these children. 
Like most women Maria longed to be rich. Out 
of her ten pesetas a week she contrived to save, 
and bought a sitting hen and a dozen eggs. In 
due time ten or eleven chickens appeared, and 
Maria grew to be as independent as she was over- 
joyed. She neglected me in the most brutal 
fashion, and made no better excuse than that 



^o MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

she must attend to her children. The chickens 
were certainly a fine lot ; and I grew to live 
almost entirely on the radiant happiness that 
overspread Maria's wrinkled old face. It was a 
large face, round, much sun-scorched, and sur- 
mounted with a thin crop of straw-coloured hair. 
Her eyes were deep-set and searching, and her' 
mouth was a large red rosette, for her lips turned 
outwards very much. She was not the least 
Spanish in appearance. Quite a new language 
came to Maria with her tribe of chickens, and she 
used to forget herself so far as to talk to me as if 
I were one of them. Then when she saw me 
laughing, and remembered her mistake, she would 
spurn me with something like, '' Bah ! you're 
only a barren old rooster ! " 

One morning at peep-of-day Maria burst into 
my quarto, and with a horribly wailing moan 
threw herself at the foot of my bed and collapsed. 
I got up and laid her on the floor. As she breathed 
heavily, and champed her mouth, I concluded 
she was in a fit. I undid her dress at the throat, 
and tried to bring her round, but got no more 
result than a horrible fit of crying. She lay for an 
hour or more in this state, and showed no signs 
either of getting better, or of dying outright. 
So I took a can, the domestic utensil of the country 
which is used for cooling the floor in hot weather ; 
and with this I watered her, first on the head and 
chest, and then all over ! It made no difference. 
She sighed, cried, and rolled about as if in great 



THE THIEF IN THE NIGHT 51 

mental rather than physical agony ; and I became 
aware that she knew of my presence, and how 
I was behaving, but either could not or would 
not stop her tears. 

This mad grief went on for three solid days 
and nights. What I got to eat doesn't matter. 
All that I remember is that I was utterly worn out 
from the starving and the unceasing yells and 
complaints of Maria. Then, almost on a sudden, 
she seemed to recover and regain her speech. The 
very first words she uttered were, '' Ah ! I never 
had but one chance to make a fortune, and now 
that is taken from me ! *' I was still in the dark, 
but the dawn soon appeared. The cause of all 
this trouble was to be made plain. Maria had got 
up as usual at peep-of-day, to find that a wolf, 
or lynx, had come in the night and carried off the 
hen and all her precious children. When this was 
told to me, I could recall a fluttering, rubbing 
noise during the night of the tragedy, but had 
thought it came from mules, as they were in the 
habit of rubbing themselves against the walls 
outside. Poor Maria's face changed completely. 
I never saw her smile with full-faced gladness 
again. Instead of lifting things, she pushed them 
about, she nursed a bitter grief, and would see 
neither sweetness nor hope anywhere. 

She had a son in South America. He had been 
away for many years, and seldom or never wrote. 
On my writing-table was the photo of a young girl, 
also one of my mother — Maria always insisted that 



52 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

the young girl was my no via — sweetheart. Coming 
into my room one day, and standing over me as 
I wrote, she said impatiently, '' Mad, mad; reading, 
reading, writing, writing ; always this, always the 
other ! '' I took no notice. Then, looking on the 
two portraits, she inquired sadly, '' Which do you 
love most ; your mother or your sweetheart ? " 
I knew what was passing through her mind, and 
said cruelly, '' Oh, my sweetheart, of course.'' 
She turned away, and said with fury, '' Worst 
curse of God be on you — you men are all the 
same ! '' 

There is a curious custom in Spain of stating 
one's age in money ; thus, when I asked Maria 
how old she might be, she replied, '' Three duros 
and a little more." A duro contains twenty reals, 
and allowing a real for each year she was over 
sixty. 

In spite of her good cooking I contracted a 
fever. Every ailment is a fever in Spain. 

As Maria professed to diagnose my case and 
prescribe a cure, she started off to town, which 
was some miles distant. The Spanish chemist 
is a primitive individual. One wanting medicine 
must take bottle or jar or box, and as Maria had 
forgotten to take her vessel, and could not manage 
to borrow or buy a bottle, my medicine was given 
to her in a large basin. It was very hot weather, 
with the road inches deep in dust. She managed 
to bring home about two tablespoonfuls of muddy 
liquid. She was quick to say, '' This is food and 



SUITED TO THE LIFE 53 

drink for you '' ; but I refused to take either until 
she had strained and re-strained the stuff through 
the fancy flounces of my pillow. After that I soon 
got well. I suppose the risks of delay were too 
great. 

For the sake of economy, suits of clothes are 
roughly cut and just tacked together, with the 
necessary linings, buttons, braidings, and thread 
in a parcel all complete. Don Luis was head and 
shoulders taller than I, but so lean as to call for 
very narrow garments. Still saving out of my 
six-and-eightpence a week, Maria was making Don 
Luis a suit of clothes, and as she wanted to keep 
the fact secret from him she used me as a lay 
figure. This was a comic business. I used almost 
to lie down and roll, so ludicrous were her remarks 
and general behaviour when fitting me, and cal- 
culating the allowance for the extra length and 
the reduced width ; for instance, Luis's legs were 
about half as thick as mine, so Maria would 
drag the stuff round me and begin to sew it up, 
and when I rebelled, chide me for my complaints, 
telling me I ought to be proud to be decked in 
such beautiful new garments ! When Don Luis 
did come into possession of his clothes they cer- 
tainly fitted him well ; and Maria was so pleased 
with her work that she kept him at home for an 
extra day or two, for the proud pleasure of seeing 
him strut about. 

I had two knickerbocker suits of soft brown 
flannel, and in an unguarded moment I told 



54 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER 

Maria she should have them the day I left. Here 
was a dilemma ! She did not want me to go, and 
if I stayed long the garments would be worn out ! 
So she schemed and appealed to my vanity. There 
were inkstains and other spots which would not 
come out in the wash ; some parts were getting 
threadbare, and patches were unbecoming to a 
caballero. Her appeals were so frequent that I 
gave her one suit. She put it on at once and 
appeared before me. Shades of Bonnie Scotland ! 
I had never seen anything like this ! Maria ever- 
more went about the house and the hills outside, 
when looking for her sweet herbs, as my double ! 
Honestly, I grew almost to hate myself, for I was 
always wondering if the difference in my height, 
and one or two minor details, could make me 
look any less absurd than Maria. 



CHAPTER V 

DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

AFTER leaving Maria, I went to an estate far 
. famed for the production of muscatels, and 
there I lived with a capataz and his family of 
three sons and a daughter — Trinidad — who, with 
the gente, provided many satisfying hours. Of 
Trinidad I shall tell you much a little later. 

The details of the muscatel industry are ex- 
tremely interesting, for it is steeped in superstition 
and quaint traditions. Saints and witches re- 
spectively provide the good and the bad qualities 
of every harvest. Santa Anna paints the grapes 
on the tenth of August, and the quality of her 
brush is gauged by the colours present in the sky. 
Woe betide the harvest if the weather be overcast 
and Santa Anna cannot get enough blue, chestnut, 
and deep red for her palette, for these are the 
desired colours in muscatels. 

'' Bacchus loves the hills,'' muscatel is Queen of 
the Valleys. She is the royal lady among fruits, 
and runs no risk of being deposed from her court 
at Malaga ; every nation supports her claims, with- 
out her no ceremony is complete. The superior 

55 



S6 Diversions at cabello 

muscatel is ''mellow as autumn and fragrant as 
the spring''; by a rare combination of climate, 
soil, and technical skill Malaga alone can produce 
this fruit to perfection. Stewards of many royal 
households purchase direct from Spain, sending 
their embossed and flowered silks and papers, 
royal favours, national colours, arms, richly lined 
cabinets, and all the rest of what is termed 
'' etiquetta " to parcel and adorn the precious 
fruit. Fashions in packing come and go at the 
whim of a princess or court lady, for whatever she 
chooses to dislike or to suggest is mentioned in the 
royal order, and affects the '' get up '' of the fruit 
for each country. 

Muscatels are made from a large greenish-gold 
grape named '' Gordo-blanco " — fat white — and 
the more refined type of amber tone, '' Muscat of 
Malaga.'' It may be hard to realise that these 
grapes yield the deep blue-black dried fruit ; but 
it is true ; no black grapes are converted into 
muscatels. In the process of drying the fruit 
takes on a black, chestnut, or dark red colour, 
according to the soil and season ; the degree of 
ripeness when cut ; the amount of sugar and iron 
it contains, and the weather during the drying 
season. The best fruit is obtained from *'vege- 
tas," or well-drained terraces of sweet pulverous 
earth. Low, rank, and undrained soils cannot 
yield a high-class muscatel, and the discrimination 
and skill used in the management often amounts 
to genius. 



WHEN RUIN COMES IN CLOUDS 57 

To the eye a lagar, hacienda, or finca — names 
applied to fruit farms and other rural estates — 
presents nothing attractive, being dry red or grey 
patches of low-lying land covered with sprawling 
bushes of dust-laden leaves ; but when the grapes 
begin to ripen, men and boys seeking work 
appear in swarms, and one loses sight of nature 
in the crowds of hungry and variegated human 
beings. 

Dogs and goats are very fond of grapes, and are 
only kept off them by rural guards ; but the 
greatest enemy of all is the starling. This bird 
flies over from Africa in such millions as literally 
to darken the earth. Wherever they camp for the 
night they leave a desert ; every particle of fruit, 
leaf, tender shoot, and piece of soft bark vanishes. 
As the saying is, '' Many crops spell various for- 
tunes ; one crop of starlings spells ruin.'' The 
blowing of a southern wind and the sound of wings 
in the air produces panic, men's faces blanch with 
terror. In despair, bells are rung, guns fired, 
torches lighted, and donkeys, mules, and horses 
are galloped up and down and round about to 
scare '' los bichos " — the beasts — as they are 
termed. Some calm souls rely on their appeals to 
the Mother of God, or the promise of a priest, 
who for a consideration has blessed and waved an 
arm of protection over the estate ; others sit and 
smoke, looking into their open hands and saying, 
''If it is to be, it will be. If it is not to be, it 
will not be." 



58 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

Mucha sol — much sun, 
Poca viento — little wind, 
Nubes ninguna — clouds none, 

is the desire of the muscatel grower. 

To be able to judge when fruit is perfectly ripe 
gives a man superior status ; and this, together 
with a stentorian voice and a store of choice ex- 
pletives, forms the ideal capataz. 

The first work is to prepare the tordos — walled 
beds of tamped earth and gravel on which the 
fruit is dried. 

No living tree or anything odorous is allowed 
near ; the tordos are always placed away from 
water in positions securing the maximum of heat 
and a minimum of shade and moist air. All the 
material of the tordos is turned and tamped, turned 
and tamped, for muscatels may not be made on 
damp or unclean ground. One man is drafted off 
to watch the sky, and arrange for the placing and 
protection of the fruit according to his weather 
wisdom. 

Near to Malaga, men seek work in thousands, 
and whilst recognising their misfortunes it is im- 
possible to avoid laughing at their darns and 
patches. Spain, so often described as a land of 
rags, is more truly a land of patches. Any one 
may wear a patch and suffer no social declension ; 
all the poor are patched, in infinite shapes, sizes, 
and colours. In the towns are patch-shops, con- 
taining piles of pieces of material of all colours ; 
and the rule is to make a bargain as regards their 



THE COUNSEL OF PERFECTION 59 

size and strength. Hence, one sees such incon- 
gruities as a strip of Turkey red from a soldier's 
trousers sewn on white drill or yellow cord. I was 
at times so fascinated by the patchwork as to 
feel I must engage men to enjoy the spectacle of 
them ; once I bought the skirt of an old tramp 
woman because it was made of hundreds of pieces 
and was a work of ingenuity and art ; but, alas, 
when I thought I had got it safely home, my 
friends did not share my transports, and burnt 
what they termed '' the beastly old thing ! " 

There is great art in knowing when the muscatel 
is ripe. It should not be cut till all its growth has 
ceased ; then the stem and seed is brown, the 
skin fine, the sugar at its maximum, and there is 
no free juice. To prevent waste and secure the 
highest quality, the men are carefully selected, 
some to cut the first-class fruit, others the second- 
class, and others the third. Here the capataz 
shines in trying to put all others of his class in the 
shade. His stock call was, '' Gentlemen, only the 
ripe ones ! Only the ripe ones ! The ripe ones ! 
Nothing more ! Solely the ripe ones ! By God, 
ripe ones ! '' Variations of this theme employed 
all his time, except when it was interlarded with 
more vigorous language. A man's pride in being 
placed among the firsts would be sweet to see, 
till the capataz, detecting some fault in his work, 
would send him to the second or third group. This 
'4nsulf would usually stupefy and deprive the un- 
fortunate of speech. He would show his wretched- 



6o DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

ness by sulking and a silent gesture. Occasion- 
ally a man would resent it by an oratorical appeal 
to his fellows. 

The jokes and pokes incidental to cutting grapes 
are endless. The fruit should never be touched ; 
if a man cannot find stem enough to handle, one 
hears his mates remarking ironically of him that 
he has the masterful dedos de Dios — fingers of 
God ! The appearance of green fruit in a man's 
basket gives all his mates the stomach-ache ; they 
writhe and gesticulate in a fit of the gripes. Up- 
setting the basket is a bad omen, and leads to the 
erection of a stake or pile of stones as a monument ; 
all coming near which preach a sermon, offer a 
prayer, or make other bantering outpouring for 
the soul of the lost grapes and of him who had 
destroyed them. 

Carried to the tordos the fruit is laid best side 
downwards, and not disturbed till the major part 
is dry. The grapes being unequal in size, some 
dry sooner than others. Drying takes from nine 
to twenty-one days. Rare skill is shown in judging 
when the fruit is dry ; it involves continual watch- 
ing to ensure lifting it at the right time. Dry fruit 
is passive, but only an expert can detect this con- 
dition to a nicety, and even an hour too much or 
too little spoils what might have been a fine sample. 
Once dried and cooled in a large airy shed, the 
quaHty is discernible, and the class of packing is 
decided upon. The bunches which appear so 
natural to the consumer are all made artificially by 



HANDLING THE MUSCATEL 6i 

hand ! The largest bunch of even-sized grapes 
will yield no more than ten to fifteen granos — ^in- 
dividual fruit — all the others being uneven or in 
some way defective and cut away. The packer 
chooses a shapely racema — bunch — and treating it 
as a frame, hangs and twists it, and contrives to 
weave a handsome cluster of even-sized and even- 
toned fruit ; all this is done without handling it 
other than with a little stick and a pair of 
scissors. 

To describe in further detail might prove tedious, 
but there are scores of particulars of the highest 
importance to be considered if the muscatel is to 
be perfect. The Spanish method of eating this 
fruit is unlike our own ; and at first appears dirty, 
though it is not really so. A Spaniard breaks the 
fruit at the stalk end, and with finger and thumb 
presses steadily from the bottom, till the congealed 
flesh exudes in a round ball, so that it can be taken 
without the skin. To the connoisseur this is im- 
portant, as the skin spoils the flavour of the 
fruit. 

The best class of cutters and packers receive but 
six reals, or a fraction over a shilling, a day, with 
two meals of soup, bread, oil, salad, and black 
figs. The hours of labour are from daybreak till 
dark, but long days of hot glaring sunshine and 
concern for the harvest leave little room for com- 
plaining or dullness. All the day long there is 
singing — free, wild, heart-born singing — and cuen- 
tas — stories — bawled abroad, as men pass to and 



62 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

fro or crouch over the tordos at the patient task 
of laying or Hfting grapes. In the evenings are 
games, songs, and tales. The Spanish do not play 
cards as much as we do, but where a few men are 
gathered together a pack is generally to be seen. 
Spanish cards are composed of cups, swords, clubs, 
and gold pieces. It appears that our spade is a 
contracted sword, and our club an abbreviated 
bludgeon ! 

The sugar-cane furnishes the most convenient 
form of mild gambling amongst poor youths and 
boys. They contrive to split the cane by either 
tossing it in the air and catching it on a knife, or 
having it thrown violently towards them, when they 
are supposed to catch it on the blade and divide 
it from end to end. One wins what he succeeds 
in splitting. We had plenty of this sport whenever 
daylight afforded ; but more common were such 
games as could be played by the aid of an oil lamp 
or two. An amusing Andalusian game is the yard 
race — sitting on the floor with legs and hands 
in the air, one is supposed to lift oneself and bump 
along for a yard, the first over the distance getting 
the prize. Although so simple, and, as some may 
think, so silly, it yields irresistibly comic situations, 
and is so difficult of accomplishment that its 
interest cannot wane. The only danger is that 
one's trousers may give out before the yard has 
been negotiated ! 

Quail-callers are the most artistic of liars. They 
have their home in Spain. The quail, or red- 



A MASTER CRAFTSMAN 63 

legged partridge, is to Spain what the domestic 
pigeon is to England, and the most popular Spanish 
field-sport is quail shooting or trapping by aid 
of a decoy. The quail-caller is one who makes 
a speciality of decoying game. He is usually a 
tatterdemalion, hardy in frame and possessed of 
rare lore, but always spoiled by his gift of lying, 
for the truth is never enough for him. He can 
imitate a cock bird entrapped or calling to its 
mate, a hen bird scared from her nest or alarmed 
for her young; in fact, any and every bird-call 
is known to him, so that at all seasons he can in- 
duce birds to come to him through fogs or mists, 
and to follow him even for miles across country, 
entering his house to be entrapped. 

I have never seen a quail follow in such manner, 
but so frequently is it stated to have been done 
that I have little doubt it is true. To assist the 
mimicry a cordoniz — quill — with a piece of leather 
lace bound round it, is carried in the mouth ; some 
men use a piece of bone like a buckle with cotton 
round it. We had two or three quail-callers of 
repute amongst our gente, but, to write the truth, 
we were only interested in them when they lied. 

For variety, and to satisfy their curiosity, I 
induced some men to take a turn at boxing ; and 
after gloves had been rudely fashioned we set to 
work ; but plucky as they were they disliked 
falling on the hard floor, and the sleeping-sacks of 
chaff were spread ; this meant rolling about and 
innumerable falls, and produced great fun ; but 



64 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

there was constant danger of touching a man's 
honour, as any suspicion of defeat angered him 
almost to madness. Several times men volunteered 
to show me how they could fight with the knife, 
and the coat off and swung like lightning round 
the left arm to form a guard. This was always 
meant to let me know that if I was superior to 
them in one way they were my equals in 
another. 

Occasionally the servants would come from the 
great house, and then we had something like 
musical evenings. The women would never 
mingle amongst the men or sit down, but would 
stand in the doorway of the packing-shed, or out 
in the clear night, and, holding each other's hands, 
would insistently encourage the men to tell tales 
or to sing. Make no mistake, Spaniards have a 
soul for music — a sense of feeling, power, and in- 
terpretation which is most rare elsewhere. 

There is a trembling, grieving, wavering, awful 
fear, the agony rather than the joy of life, so sad, 
so unavailing ; such clear vision ; such refine- 
ment of emotion ; withal given in voices most full 
of expression and delicacy of sound. 

It takes time to discern the fidelity, which is 
the beauty of Spanish song. The form is not 
easily comprehended. Fleeting thoughts ; home 
longings ; farewells ; visions ; memories ; love- 
sighs ; labour ; fortune ; — these in couplet form 
are so much in little as to escape the more dis- 
passionate northern races. 



THE SOUL OF THE SOUTH 65 

ANDALUSIAN COUPLETS 

Dreaming of thee — dreaming of thee — dreaming of thee — 

I fell asleep ; 
And falling asleep I waked to love thee ! 

I'll ask my confessor to make me a penitent, 
That I may kneel to you always. 

If they gave me the millions at which I value your person, 
You might say to the world, you have a rich sweetheart. 

I don't want any singing — singing of " tranquilUty " ! 
I want light" songs of love that flow out of your soul ! 

I'll ask the Evangelist to alter his teaching, — 

For I know that your window is the way to Heaven. 

Oh, nightingale ! Oh, nightingale ! Why sing you ? why 

sing you ? 
My heart is sad ! my love is gone ! Why sing you ? why 

sing you ? 

If you should doubt my love, my love will fade ; 
The lyre will lose its music and the world its flowers. 

Ay de Mi ! Ay de Mi ! Words tell not my sorrow, — 
I know not my complaint ! Ay de Mi ! Ay de Mi ! 

GITANESCOS 
Gypsy couplets may be heard over all Spain, 
but they are most common in Andalusia. The 
following are some examples : — 

As I sat under a tree without fruit I sighed, — 
Sighed, as I thought — how poor is he who hath nothing 
to give ! 

I should never have thought that your love was poison. 
Served in a cup of gold. 



66 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO 

Man is a serpent — a serpent with wings — 
Which at times bear him up to the skies, 
And at others bear him down to the ground. 

The ass and the gypsy share a hard road, 

Hard bed and hard fare. 

Father Confessor, forgive their sins ? 

I sing for I am happy — I am happy and must sing ; 
For you have driven all care out of my heart. 

Since I saw you in a lonely hour, 

I have discovered a new world and am become its king. 

I am under your window — and its bars are strong. 
But our love will break all barriers down. 

I believe the couplet and '* pensimiento *' reveal 
the soul of Spain more truly than anything which 
is done or said in the land. Romances and old- 
fashioned stories are recited with as much freedom 
as ever ; and to the call of '' Come now ! " every 
man would contribute his share. 

As the maidens retired, some of the younger men 
would steal after them to play the part of '' iron 
eaters." Lovers are so called because they talk 
through the iron-barred or latticed windows. 

One of our workmen died, and we took him in 
his best clothes on a bier obtained from the church 
porch, and buried him cofhnless in the deep square 
pit which formed the common grave of his village. 
The cimenterio was at the crown of a steep hill 
above the church ; as we climbed a bell was 
clanged and rattled at the will of two boys. The 



COOL CUSTOMERS 67 

bells are hung in window-like spaces of the towers, 
and have heavy wooden frames, enabling those 
who ring them to turn the bells over and over. A 
priest led the little procession, and tiring of the 
hill he sat down and puffed at a cigarette. Then 
the bell stopped, and we saw the two boys locked 
round its frame, their legs gripping the tongue, 
and by means of a hand and spare foot pressing 
the wall and turning themselves over and over ! 
The sight was sickening, but the boys betrayed 
no fear till our calls reached them, and the priest 
told them in forcible language to ''go on with 
the music." 



CHAPTER VI 

A LOVE STORY 

ONE day a friend asked me to accompany him 
to a christening, and in support of his re- 
quest he showed me this letter. 

'' Dear friend Joseph, 

''Will you come to-night and be presented 
to our first-born son ? If he cannot hold out his 
hand, I will welcome you for him. Try and per- 
suade your English friend to come. Father Julius 
will be here till nightfall, and I pray most fer- 
vently that his blessing will ever attend my boy. 
With the priest out of the way we shall go in for 
a high old time of ' Rats in the hole.' 

*' Yours always, 

'' Luis.*' 

We went to the presentation. It is not mis- 
called, for the baby is presented, and then you 
present it with something. I gave a tiny pair of 
shoes made of strips of coloured felt, ingeniously 
plaited. There were a great many peasant women 
present, and they criticised and admired the shoes 
amazingly ; some went so far as to say before the 
poor mother that the shoes were far too good for 
her first-born son. Nearly an hour was spent in 
trying to discover if any baby in all their ken had 

68 



HIS HIGHNESS THE BABY 69 

ever possessed a pair of shoes bought out of a 
shop. 

There was, at this christening, a kind of hired 
clown, who played the violin whilst contorting 
his body. He also made ingenious jokes, de- 
manding forfeits which went to the baby. He 
succeeded in playing an air with his hands behind 
him, another with one hand in his pocket, and one 
with an arm buttoned inside his waistcoat. Many 
of his antics were vulgar in the extreme, whilst 
others were clever, and he made some smart 
rhymes on the company. Every one sat round the 
walls of the two or three little rooms ; and, from 
the oldest to the youngest, all drank the health of 
the baby in tiny glass cups of white spirit. The 
father of the child was a modeller in clay, and with 
a basin of water and clay he sketched group after 
group of those present on the whitewashed wall. 
For delicacies we ate pine-kernels, lupin-seed, and 
muscatels. Many women present had babies, and 
some gave their infants poppy-water to keep them 
quiet. This was not done in any mean spirit, but 
because the poor mothers had not sufficient natural 
food for their offspring. 

Spain was frightfully poor at this time, and in 
the most generous season of the year the majority 
of the peasants were in a state of hopeless want. 
Wherever I went on the road I was appealed to by 
children for a little for God's sake, as their fathers 
were in Buenos Aires. This appeal was so frequent 
and unvarying that I thought there must be some 



70 A LOVE STORY 

attractive catch in the statement that the father 
was in Buenos Aires, but on asking, a man made 
the reason clear. '' Yes, it is quite true their 
fathers are in Buenos Aires. A few years ago some 
rascals came to this province and induced thou- 
sands of our best men to go to South America. 
After a year or so they were to be joined by their 
wives and families, but the scheme was a swindle, 
and thousands of women and children are hus- 
bandless and fatherless from this cause." 

One night I came home to find the path to the 
house illuminated. My host, the capataz, had 
died. He had not been a strict churchman, and I 
found the family holding an argument over the 
wisdom or otherwise of calling in the priest. 
Every available candle had been used to light up 
the avenue between the road and the house, and 
the wife and daughter had placed one or two near 
the head of the dead man. In moving round to 
condole with the members of the family I upset 
one of these candles, and the faces of the women 
became whiter than ever with holy terror. They 
could not believe that their husband and father 
could be in any way safe after this malventura. 
I know it was remembered against me for months, 
and the widow was especially bitter in accusing 
me of adding to her grief. 

An instructive chapter might be written on the 
Lady in Spain, for she is the most distinctive and 
unrelated woman in Europe. He would, indeed, 
be a master who, knowing the subject, could make 



CLIMATE AND CHARACTER 71 

her appear as she is and has her being. The mis- 
tress of Cabello was a great lady, a direct de- 
scendant of Peter the Cruel and his consort, Maria 
Padilla. She was about thirty years of age ; 
rather small, delicately formed, and beautiful ; 
but not particularly Spanish in appearance. She 
had married at eighteen, and at the time I write 
of had a precocious son of ten. Her husband was 
ten years her senior, a fine man of German ex- 
traction ; where Germany mates with Spain one 
sees the most absolute indifference to women and 
her concerns. Don A. was fond of his wife and a 
loyal husband, but he and she lived in different 
worlds, as is so often the case in upper-class 
Spain; the wife never going out, and the hus- 
band never at home. This does not mean that all 
the men are rakes, but that their social habits 
keep them up at all hours, a custom forced by a 
climate which makes the night more congenial 
than the day, and when a man is employed through 
the day, he works so easily, and takes his siesta so 
often, that he can pass most of his nights in the 
club or calle and not show signs of wanting more 
rest. 

Doha Maria was a devout churchwoman, her 
only diversion consisted in going to Mass two 
or three times a week, gathering a sheaf of polite 
scandal and bringing it home for the benefit of 
her servants. This is the most surprising, as it is 
one of the most pleasing facts of Spanish life. 
The greatest lady regards her maid in the light 



72 A LOVE STORY 

of an intimate, and the maid, though reverencing 
her mistress, speaks critically and frankly to her 
on every subject. Dona Maria kept six maids, and 
for a wonder they were maids, for it is most un- 
usual for single women to act as servants. Mothers 
and daughters go out together. If a girl has no 
relations, she is adopted by an aunt or older 
woman, who has absolute control of her. Only 
in the rarest circumstances are young single 
women found in a Spanish household. There are 
two reasons for this. The girls are notoriously 
weak and incapable of resisting the advances of 
men ; and where they are servants their masters 
invarably take advantage of them. The excep- 
tional reputation of Don A. and his wife gave 
them the privilege of keeping a number of young 
servants. Only the cook was married, and she 
was under thirty. A seventh, in the form of a 
doncella, or lady's-maid, was a well-bred girl of 
great wit and charm, and not a bit like a Spaniard ; 
for she was educated, in no way superstitious, 
petulant, or afraid of men — a fine girl and the life 
and soul of the household. She was always in- 
venting games and pitting Spain against the rest 
of the world, bracketing herself with me, for she 
had been partly educated in France. Our coach- 
man weighed eighteen stone, and as Lola, the 
familiar name for Dolores, and I together weighed 
but a little more, it was her favourite challenge 
that we should have a tug-of-war, and decide 
which might be the weightiest part of the world ! 



WHERE SPAIN SHOWS WELL 73 

Spain always won, for we found that the coach- 
man tied himself to a post in the stable, and, pull 
as we would, we could never get him out. This 
had been his challenge, and Lola and I made any 
number of trials before discovering the trick. At 
first all were shocked at the masculine play of 
Dolores and her near contact with a man, but after 
a time the feeling wore off and the whole house- 
hold gave way to this kind of diversion. 

Dona Maria's interest in her maids, and their 
affection for her, was quite beautiful. After 
dinner it was her custom to pick a few sweets from 
the table, small dried and crystallised fruits — for 
there are no puddings of any kind — and rising 
with the lightness and joy of a little girl, she would 
call, " Ay, my girls ! Where are you ? '' At this 
there would be a rustling and chattering in the 
long passage leading to the kitchen, and Dofia 
Maria would feed them out of her hand, as so many 
twittering birds. This performance used to take 
place almost daily, and one never thought it silly 
or without value. The cook was almost too proud 
to be fed, she got too much food as it was ; but 
her mistress would never allow her to escape, and 
in the end she took her share like the others. 

What might be called the Mass meeting was 
always entertaining. Twenty-four hours before 
the time of starting every maid and man would 
be saying excitedly, '' Doha Maria's going to Mass 
to-morrow ! " *' Oh, my ! Doha Maria's going to 
Mass to-morrow ! " '' Much favour of God on 



74 A LOVE STORY 

Dona Maria ! '' '' Oh, a good time on the road for 
Doiia Maria ! " and a hundred other exclamations 
of hope and well-wdshing. Then, when the morn- 
ing came, a great lumbering coach would be rolled 
out, a pair of most beautiful mouse-coloured mules 
attached, and the eighteen-stone coachman would 
climb aloft to the envy of all who stood round- 
He usually got on his perch an hour before starting- 
time, for he liked to be admired and envied. The 
church was but three miles away, it might have 
been three hundred judging by the preparation 
and the ceremony of saying good-bye. The house 
overlooked the courtyard where the coachman 
sat in waiting, and for an hour or more feminine 
heads would be poked out of every \\indow^ all 
shouting and calhng at the same time, " Have 
you got this ? Have you got that for Dona 
Maria ? " There were always a score or two of 
men about at this early morning hour, and these, 
too, caught the contagion and spoke of nothing 
but Mass, coachman, the making of journe^^s, and 
the monumental goodness of Doiia Maria. I con- 
fess to liking her as much as the others ; but I got 
almost sick of the everlasting repetition of her 
name. When at last she appeared — garbed as a 
simple little nun, with a long jet rosary on her 
arm, a small black fan, and a little black bag- 
purse, one had a feeling of disappointment ; but 
she was the great lady after all, there could be no 
mistake about that. Two or three of the maids 
would always be in close attendance, eyeing her 



ON GOING TO MASS 75 

from top to toe for threads or anything that might 
possibly be out of place. Doha Maria and the 
coachman would exchange compliments, as if they 
had not seen each other for years, she inquiring 
after his and his family's health and all his worldly 
concerns, and he of hers in exactly the same terms 
and manner. Then the excitement would begin 
to brew ; the maids would say dejectedly to them- 
selves, and to each other, and up to the sky, '' Oh, 
Doha Maria's going away." '* Oh, Dofia Maria's 
going to see the padre." '* Oh, how sad I am, 
Dofia Maria's going away ! " There would be a 
commingling of complaints, sad shakings of heads, 
and no end of expressions of hope for a safe journey. 
Of course, there could be no hurry ! Hurry is im- 
possible in Spain, sheer madness, a thing to dis- 
gust one, and put one to shame. So Maria would 
let them have their wail out, then she would look 
at the coach and the coachman, as if she had for- 
gotten his presence, and say, '' Oh, Pedro, I think 
I'll get you to take me to Mass this morning." 
The coachman would bow and the maids would 
grab and lift Doha Maria into her seat. Some 
would kiss her ; all would raise their hands in 
good-bye when the coach lumbered off. She would 
be away about three hours ! How could that time 
be endured ? There was no housekeeper, every 
maid was a law unto herself, and as such incapable 
of work whilst her mistress was away. They would 
hang about in a group, chattering and twittering, 
going the round of the gardens and climbing to 



76 A LOVE STORY 

view-points whence they might look along the 
road. 

About half a mile on this road was a wooden 
bridge, and on crossing it our coach might be 
detected from its sound. False alarms there were 
to no end, and the words " bridge " and " coach '* 
were constantly heard from the time Doiia Maria 
was due to return. When she did at last arrive, 
the maids would rush down to the entrance gates, 
stop the coach, pull their mistress out, and almost 
stifle her with embraces and inquiries and con- 
gratulations. She always seemed tired of the ad- 
venture, apart from this home reception, and often 
had actually to beat them off with her fan. Of 
course, she lived on this unstinted devotion, and 
when at last they got her home, they would sit 
round and listen patiently to what she had to tell 
in the way of news. This was generally very simple 
and old-fashioned, for after Mass she always break- 
fasted with an old aunt, a rigid church woman, and 
the subjects dealt with were chiefly of the Church 
and its superstitions. 

After the death of Trinidad's father I succeeded 
to some of his duties, and lived partly in the great 
house and partly in that of Trinny's mother. 
Dolores and Trinny were fast friends, and as I 
confess to a real fondness for Trinny, the three of 
us passed a deal of time together. It is simply 
impossible for a man and woman of any age to 
walk or be alone together in Southern Spain. But 
on the principle that there is safety in numbers. 



THE HUMOROUS CHAMELEON jy 

and that foreigners don't count, I often found 
myself with Dolores and Trinidad, and we went so 
far as to take long walks in the campo, gathering 
the lovely caper flowers and their seed-pods — 
alcaparas — for pickling. At other times we went 
exploring the hills ; and it was very interesting to 
observe how these Spanish women revealed their 
sense of freedom when they found themselves 
alone, and at the same time how they wore looks 
of awful dread as they contemplated the return, 
for they were afraid of being scandalised and losing 
their reputation. But fear as they might, one 
class of adventure never failed to draw them forth. 
It was that of chameleon catching. 

The chameleon is the delight of the world once 
you have fairly caught and tamed and known 
him. In Europe chameleons are found only in the 
extreme south ; and they vary a good deal in size 
and form, the season of the year, the food and the 
light influencing their colour and behaviour. In 
their native state they are not remarkable for any- 
thing more than their extraordinary swiftness of 
movement. They live in dry rocky country and 
feed on flies and other small insects. They are 
seldom out of their holes and crannies, excepting 
during bright and hot weather ; for they are of a 
hibernating and torpid character, and such good 
Spaniards that they don't mind whether they get 
a meal to-day or next year. They are becoming 
scarce, for a country boy is sure of a peseta for a 
live chameleon. To catch them, the best means is 



78 A LOVE STORY 

a flying net, held in such a way that it can be 
thrown over the rock on which the chameleon is 
lying. They seem to know that they are a prize, 
and avoid small rocks or any place which may be 
easily netted. During the heat of the day a chame- 
leon may be seen working round the edge of a 
broad flat rock. He conceals part of his body and 
tail by letting it hang over the edge, for he is 
anxious to secure a fly for a meal. You may see 
the fly and the chameleon ten feet apart and look 
with all your eyes and then see nothing ; the 
chameleon has gone and the fly has gone, and the 
fly won't come back ; the chameleon may, but not 
to-day ; he has dined, is satisfied, and has gone 
home. 

Now it seems impossible that this could be, but 
I am stating the literal truth when I write that I 
have seen a chameleon a foot or more in length on 
one side of a stone and a fly in the middle or on the 
other side of it, and have seen them both vanish, 
and been certain that the chameleon caught the 
fly, though I never could see him make the capture 
or the way of his going. The only clue to the fact 
comes a moment before the rush is made — the tail 
moves up into a convex curve, the spine becomes 
rigid, and the head flattens on the stone. 

As a pet and source of pure fun, the chameleon 
can have few equals ; he has, moreover, the al- 
most priceless advantage over most members of a 
household in that he calls for no special quarters 
or attention. Give him a curtain-pole or a piece of 



THE EYE OF THE WORLD 79 

string hanging in an airy position that he may 
survey the world from, and heTl look after himself 
and bother no one. His eyeballs are practically 
outside his head, and he has a marvellous power 
of rolling them and looking all ways at once. Each 
eye is about the size of a pea, a grey disk as of 
indiarubber, and down a narrow hole one discerns 
a black diamond glistening, quivering, almost 
speaking, shooting out its emotions, and at the 
same time keeping a wonderful gaze on everything 
within range. 

I kept a chameleon through a long summer, and 
in common fairness can but thank him for hun- 
dreds of merry hours. I hung a string from the 
ceiling, tied a few knots in it for perches, and told 
my chameleon to make himself at home. He did 
so. For the first three weeks the weather was not 
to his liking, and he slept, at least I never saw him 
move or show a sign of life. I would catch flies and 
gum a wing to a piece of wood or paper in the hope 
of tempting him to wake up. But he was quite 
superior to my attention and would take only 
such flies as he caught for himself. All the fun and 
mystery of this creature and others of his race lies 
in the roll and glance of the eyes. When on the 
watch for a meal, the eyeballs sweep round like a 
telescope searching the heavens, and the black 
diamond of a pupil fixes the poor fly, until it loses 
all power of flight and is simply mopped up by the 
great mouth. The wonderful colouring of the 
chameleon is to be seen chiefly in literature, for 



8o A LOVE STORY 

they are not otherwise remarkable. I have 
handled these animals in various situations and 
seasons, and seen no more than a slight increase of 
purple, violet, green and gold when the weather is 
very hot and the skin is distended about the neck 
and inside the legs and arms. 

Trinny, who was all heart, often regaled me 
with the love affairs of her family and friends, till 
one day I was emboldened to ask her if she never 
had a sweetheart of her own. With much spirit 
and sign of emotion she indignantly asserted she 
had been truly loved. But as she phrased it, ''A 
cruel world prevented the right things to happen. '* 
She was short-waisted, full-bosomed, and a very 
animate little figure, all movement from the waist 
upwards. Her lips were a beautiful cherry-red, 
her teeth perfect, and she had the most kindly 
eyes. She moved up and down the room, her 
hands on her breast, though haughty in bearing, 
racked with longing to express and rid herself of 
the pain still gnawing at her heart. '' Come," I 
pleaded, '' tell me all about it." Half tearful, half 
fearful, she went to the door. Her mother sat 
sewing in the great arched entrance to the patio. 
Trinny felt the coast to be clear, and signed to me 
to stand in the safe position of the doorway. 
'' You are true ? You would like to know ? " she 
inquired, and seeing my nod, she began : *' Eigh- 
teen I, and that was six years ago. Oh, by my 
soul, the years have wings ! A brother of mine 
was a lieutenant of Engineers, and quartered in the 



THE TALE OF THE HEART 8i 

north. On a special mission he came to his own 
pueblo, and we knew not of this till one morning 
he came very early and surprised my mother by 
saluting her at her own door. ' Keep your hat on 
and come in/ said my mother. And he entered a 
soldier complete, erect, in beautiful dress, and all 
much adorned. One kiss my mother gave him, 
and to me he bowed and called me an improved 
little girl, for he had been absent for three years. 
Then he said, ' I have a friend, a brother officer, 
with me. Permit me, mother mine, to ask a favour 
for this distinguished sefior to enter your house.' 
' Con muchas gusto,' replied my mother, and my 
brother went to introduce his friend. Oh, soul of 
me for a handsome man ! Six feet, young, strong, 
full of grace, animation, and courage, eyes bril- 
liant, and a whole body full of love quite noble. 
All this I saw in a moment. With a profound bow 
he uncovered, but my mother said, ' Enter, enter, 
and cover you, this is your house.' At this mo- 
ment I stood hiding my breasts with all my hands, 
for I felt my heart escaping, and there in the dark 
corner of the room I did not want to be noticed. 
But my brother said, ' Friend Sebastiano, this is 
my sister.' Then when I saw the handsome sehor 
look at me, I was covered with shame and said 
but a small word to his salutation. But in this 
moment he was more than the friend of my 
brother, he was the world to me. My mother's 
eyes were upon us, and I was timid, but wilful in a 
way I had not felt before. After some talk my 



82 A LOVE STORY 

brother rose to salute my mother and retire. ' To- 
morrow, with your favour, I will with Don Sebas- 
tiano come again, for our work will be over, and 
we shall need to bid you adios/ My mother gave 
a kiss to my brother and her hand to Don Sebas- 
tiano. But he gave me his eyes and a sign of the 
hand. With this display of affection and a mili- 
tary salute he left us. Ay, Mother of God, that 
was a painful day ! My mother was always cold 
and not wanting a lover for me ; but early in the 
morning I gathered jasmine for my hair, and put 
a handkerchief of coloured flowers over my shoul- 
ders, and at the same moment the two soldiers 
appeared at the portal. ' Mother of mine, sister 
of mine, I hope you're well,' spoke my brother, 
and Don Sebastiano the same. * Enter, enter, 
gentlemen, and keep covered,' called my mother. 
All agitation I stood by the door, the courage of a 
wild animal in all my frame. Not fearing my 
mother I said to the noble one, ' When do you 
march ? ' * At this hour ! ' ' When do you come 
again ? ' 'I am a soldier and cannot say.' ' But 
I want you.' ' I also want.' ' What is possible ? ' 
' Esperanza— Bonita nina — Esperanza is possible.' 
They stayed but a moment longer, and then 
saluted. ' Adios ' and ' Adios ' we all said, and I 
all sad made one plea for them to stay longer or 
come once more. But Sebastiano said ' Impos- 
sible,' and with more adios and much talk from 
the hand they marched from the room ! Oh, that 
moment, and that day! I could not speak nor 



THE WAYS OF MAN AND MAID 83 

work, nor find tears nor think of any remedy ! 
All my heart was in pain. I went to my quarto 
and held my breast tightly, oh, very tightly ! but 
my heart broke ! " Don Sebastiano never re- 
turned, and that was all her story. 

The breasts of a Spanish woman are sacred, and 
as her heart may be read through them it is unfair 
and always rude to look beyond her face. A man's 
eye resting on a flower or ornament on the throat 
or breast may provoke the remark, '' You are 
searching ! " or '' You have mean thoughts of 
me ! " The breasts are held pressed or covered 
with crossed hands as signs of modesty, shame, 
truth, fear, and deep emotion. 

'' He gave me his eyes and a sign of the hand.'* 
This reveals the whole man. The lover of the 
South has no use for his tongue, the hand express- 
ing every thought and shade of emotion. 

This story may appear too precipitate and 
abrupt, but therein is it true to the way of love 
in Spain. The time involved, less than an hour — 
a halt ! front ! right about turn ! march ! sort 
of visit, for the men were on military duty. The 
swift feeling and sure speech are both in the 
Andalusian way, and the collapse of Trinny, in 
spite of her holding her breast very tightly — but 
her heart broke — her own words — shows how 
strong was the flood, and how soon and com- 
pletely life was changed for ever. 

These incidents occurred fifteen years ago, and 
now I come again to Cabello to find the children 



84 A LOVE STORY 

I knew grown to men and women, to learn that 
my poor old Maria is in an asylum, and that Don 
Luis, though very old, is in South America with 
his son. And Trinny ? Well, she is married. 
After some hunting I found her eldest brother 
Paco, the best educated and therefore the ne'er- 
do-well and the most likeable ; and after a day's 
yarn we decided to call on another brother who 
lived in the country on his own farm. This journey 
meant a trudge from morn to night over ver}^ 
rough and tiring land, but I walked every inch 
with a feeling of profound joy, for I knew I should 
be welcomed. Pepe, the brother whom we went 
to see, was waiting in an olive grove — he had been 
there the best part of two days — and when he 
saw me afar off he ran like a mad thing and fell on 
my neck, and hugged and kissed me, and cried 
and sobbed, till I had to cry also, and in real 
earnest, for I was overcome by this display of 
human feeling. I had never seen its like before. 
It was really splendid, and I could hardly believe 
it genuine, for I had done nothing to aid him in 
any way. We sat for hours talking, he holding my 
hands and rubbing them as if he were a mother 
and I a long-lost son. His wife, whom I had not 
seen before, was very kind, and not in the least 
jealous. I have indeed got a moral lift here, for 
I discern absolute affection where there is no 
possible chance of mercenary reward. 

Trinny is married to a farmer, an exceedingly 
kind and intelligent man, but with a poor bit of 



so LIKE A JOYOUS DREAM 85 

country, and so has to struggle for a livelihood. 
Paco and I decided to call on Trinny together. On 
the road we met an elder sister, who told me that 
Trinny was happy though married, and with this 
as a refreshing draught we went on. We walked 
for hours over stony rises, down into dry gullies, 
and along wearying naked ranges ; then past an 
old monastery and through olive and carob and 
raisin plantations, all the time looking at towering 
mountains, with here and there green lawns — 
oranges — plantations in the watered valleys. 
Always, or nearly always, we were in sight of the 
sea, and with Trinny' s house of pure white, with 
a few upright trees about it, showing on the side 
of a mighty chocolate-red hill. Absolute stillness 
everywhere. We alone made a sound. Oh, I for- 
got ; there were mobs of goats with clinking bells 
at times, and also a mule or pig or donkey with 
its bell. It was a long climb up the last hill, and 
as we got near the house we feared we were making 
the journey in vain, for the place was shut up. 
But the folk were taking their siesta, and a big 
rattle of the door from Paco woke them. Trinny 
came forward, almost the same in face, though 
grown stouter and more matronly in figure. She 
is rather short and thick-set, but not in the least 
ungainly. May I confess she was glad to see me ? 
I do confess, because though I never loved her or 
thought of her more than as a kind and agreeable 
little friend, I was always convinced that a deep- 
seated affection existed between us. She showed 



S6 A LOVE STORY 

me all her house. It is in two parts, for her 
husband's brother and his family are joint owners, 
and when the old father died he divided the house 
in such a way as to make it impossible for either 
family to respect the other's preserves. Trinny's 
account of where she could and could not legally 
walk in her own house was most amusing. She 
is very quick-witted, and enjoys the fun of the 
situation eternally. Her husband was from home, 
and her only boy away at school, so I missed 
seeing them both. She has lost two children, has 
been married ten years, and is forty-one. These 
figures reversed give a better idea of her face, 
which is a most unusual statement to make of 
any Spanish woman. I put in most of the after- 
noon nursing and playing with twin babies — boy 
and girl — her brother-in-law's children. We had 
a meal, and drank white spirit which I had taken 
care to bring with me. Altogether it was a clean 
and blessed time. I had never kissed Trinny, 
but when we came away, as she kissed Paco I 
thought I might have one, so I kissed her on the 
forehead. I felt her tremble terribly, and she 
looked frightened when I let her go ; but that 
was only Spain, the woman did not mind. And 
now I have left her, a link, a strong link to a 
bright and rare bit of life I lived here in the long 
ago. I could not ignore her. I have no wish to 
forget her. I never shall. She told me she was 
very poor, but she had a kind man for mate and 
a beautiful boy, and was content. That is much. 



A RARE AND BLESSED TIME ^7 

As we went homewards the hills and the moun- 
tains blended into one tone of deep copper, and 
the vales beneath them were streaked with lines 
of grey mist. The crown of the world was a rim 
of gold caused by the reflected light of the setting 
sun on the mountain-tops. Trinny's house was 
a little white ghost peeping out of the shadow of 
the great hill, and I ? Well, I felt like a parchment 
ghost — cold and homeless in the evening air — out 
before my time, and going nowhere ! I looked 
back many times and thought as often. No 
words will reveal what I thought — chiefly, I sup- 
pose, of the mystery of human life, of its comings 
and goings, of the labour and the pain, the loving 
and losing, and that unfailing force which impels 
us to move on and lose sight and grasp of what we 
have at one time or another deemed the best. 



CHAPTER Vn 

GASTRONOMIA 

AS this book deals largely with domestic life, 
L it may be as well to devote a few words to 
Spanish fare. The Spaniards talk much of food, 
but eat little. They also say much in praise of 
wine, and remain the most abstemious people in 
the world. There is absolutely no drinking on the 
part of the well-to-do beyond their actual needs. 
At holiday times the very poor may, with the 
chance given then, drink to excess, but sobriety is 
virtually a reUgion \\ith them. There is no \dce 
so condemned or regarded with more shame than 
that of drinking. One sees the Moorish character 
in this distaste for drink ; but if coffee were an 
intoxicant Spain would be a nation of drunkards, 
for cafe is consumed by all who can afford it. The 
quality is on the whole excellent, but in many pro- 
vinces the beans are over-roasted and indigestion 
is promoted. In the extreme south, one gets ex- 
cellent cafe for a real, with a penny to the waiter. 
Tea is gaining ground there ; many men take 
it in the cafes, and it has become the recognised 
thing at live o'clock in all houses with any pre- 
tensions to social form. Spain was one of the 



GOOD TEA AN IMPOSSIBILITY 89 

first European countries to acquire the tea-drinking 
habit from the East, and in the seventeenth cen- 
tury she produced a rare lot of metal and other 
ware in the form of tea-services. But the tea habit 
did not last then, nor does it seem likely ever to be 
more than a fashion in Spain ; the people cannot 
command the hot water, nor the instinct necessary 
to the making of a good pot of tea. There is 
nothing but goat's milk, and neither with lemon- 
juice nor beet-sugar can a decent cup of tea be 
secured. The natural conditions are against pro- 
per tea-making, and the perpetuation of the habit 
in Spain. Then tea is frightfully dear, the cheapest 
runs from four to five shillings a pound ; and to 
buy a sealed packet of the genuine article runs to 
six or eight shillings a pound. Chocolate is taken 
as a thick stodge only, and in very small cups. 

The food and feeding habits of the Spaniards are 
in nearly all ways distinct from those of the peoples 
further north. Excepting hotels, cafes, and the 
best private houses, there are neither tables nor 
chairs, but stools for sitting on and holding the 
dish. In town and country the common people 
frequently stand or crouch about whilst taking 
their meals. Then the food is served in one dish 
for all. I am here dealing with simple homes ; 
but in what in England would be known as middle- 
class households, the food is often served in a 
single dish or bowl, with forks or spoons laid 
round. Knives are unnecessary, excepting to cut 
the bread, for should there by any chance be meat, 



90 GASTROXOMIA 

it will be cut up or picked to pieces by whoever 
serves the meal. 

Most strangers imagine that Spain reeks of 
garhc. As a matter of fact the people of large 
parts of the countr}^ know nothing of this vege- 
table. And even where used, it is never to \Tilgar- 
ise the dish, or the consumer. For months I have 
travelled without tasting or scenting garhc, and 
I have been unable to obtain it when seeking it in 
large towns. In Granada, for example, I stayed 
in a thoroughly native fonda, where the cooking 
was varied and excellent, and the company drawn 
from several provinces of Spain. But no garlic was 
employed, and on my mentioning the fact at table, 
some commercial travellers were able to confirm 
my opinion that its virtues w^ere far too little 
known, since to those who know how it should be 
prepared it is one of the most appetising things 
in the cuisine. 

Spain is covered with sweet herbs ; not only 
th^^me, sage, marjoram, rosemary, lavender, mints, 
and fennel, but scores besides of dainty little 
aromatic plants which yield a scent, flavour, or 
appetising qualit}' to the otherwise plain fare of 
the land. Then it contains some native vegetables 
of substance — cardoon, fennel, seakale, asparagus, 
and dandelion, all of which are made the most of 
in their respective seasons. Quite a long chapter 
might be written on the dishes which are distinc- 
tive, as they are made from materials found in 
combination in no other part of Europe. 



IN PRAISE OF CHORIZO 91 

Nearly every province is famed for some dish, 
vegetable, fruit, or joint — the most notable in the 
form of hams and sausages. The salami is made 
in Spain, but is not the national sausage. That 
honour belongs to the chorizo, a little capsicum- 
red fellow, and usually with a mouldy exterior 
which makes him unattractive and costly to the 
uninitiated. But to those who know, age and 
shabbiness are everything. You cannot have a 
chorizo too old, if made of genuine materials. 
These consist of macerated lean and very old ham, 
and the fat of old ham which has been rubbed 
down with capsicum powder until it is of the con- 
sistency of cheese. Into this is worked some garlic- 
juice — not a flood, but a flavouring breath. Next, 
some peppercorns and one or two fragments of 
sweet herbs, drawn from the campo, are used. 
These things are well mixed and stuffed into stout 
skins, and if the best results are desired the chorizo 
is put into a jar and covered with boiling lard well 
impregnated with garlic, peppercorns, capsicum, 
and green rosemary. Thus prepared the chorizo 
is an immortal, and, like heavy wine, it improves 
with age. The best I ever tasted was twenty-seven 
years old. What one buys in an ordinary way are 
no more than a few months old, but even these 
youngsters are perfection to those who can accept 
Spanish fare for all and sufficient. Of course, the 
character of the meat and the method of prepara- 
tion have all to do with the quality of the chorizo, 
but at its best it is the finest dainty of its kind to 



92 GASTRONOMIA 

be bought in Europe. You can use the chorizo 
with everything, and nothing seems quite perfect 
without it, especially boiled joints, soups, and 
made dishes. The chorizo, like the garlic, is not to 
be taken as a meal, but as the appetising item, to 
make every dish a blessing. And that word bless- 
ing reminds me that in Spain one is always hungry, 
and that it is the aroma and appetising proper- 
ties of the chorizo which place it so high in one's 
estimation. 

The things absent from Spain make one wonder 
what can be present to sustain its people. There 
is no such thing as a joint. The biggest piece of 
meat one is likely to see will be a baked kid, and 
this but rarely. The meat of the largest animals 
is cut and served in the tiniest pieces. Turkeys 
and fowls also are cut to bits and fried and stewed, 
and lost in the vegetable savoury which surrounds 
them. And the pig, ubiquitous in Spain, is never 
seen in the form of a boiled ham or a rasher of 
bacon. It is true that Granada is celebrated for 
its hams ; very old and cooked in white wine 
which has been first delicately spiced. In fact, 
whole hams are not so treated, but small pieces, 
and these are obtainable only in the cook-shops 
and fondas. Then Spain has no pie of any sort. 
Nor is there a baked or boiled pudding, nor a cake, 
nor a tart, nor anything in the form of stewed 
fruit, a custard, or a substantial dish which we 
know as a '' sweet.'' 

Cabbage, and several other more or less sub- 



THE SUM OF THE LARDER 93 

stantial vegetables, have no place in Spanish fare. 
In a land without heavy fires, butter, or cow's milk 
there can be neither big joints, good pastry, nor 
light puddings, and the dearness of meat makes 
its general consumption practically impossible. 
The true meat of Spain is the olive and its oil, and 
next the bacalao or cod-fish, of which the Spaniards 
are large consumers. With a slow charcoal fire, a 
little oil, cod, a handful of rice, another of chick- 
peas, a remnant of bacon-fat, a thread of saffron, 
and a gota or tear-drop of garlic, a meal is secured 
for a family. In Spain no one tires of repetition. 
Here, if anywhere, Wordsworth's lines are true, 
for at table their whole vocation is endless imita- 
tion. Soup, similar soup, and even more similar 
soup is consumed the year round. 

The stock ingredients of the Spanish kitchen 
are, so far as the common people are concerned, 
very inferior beef and mutton, goat's flesh, bacon- 
fat, seasoned lard, sausages, cod-fish, eggs, oil, 
and, on the coast, fresh fish. Vegetables — chick- 
peas, rice, potatoes, pumpkins, egg-plant, toma- 
toes, giant radishes, artichokes, cucumbers, car- 
doons, onions, asparagus, olives. The flavourings 
— saffron, garlic, and capsicum, one or other of 
these present in every dish. The capsicum is used 
everywhere. In the north the fruits are like our 
own, though of inferior quality, and in the south 
and east, melons, oranges, grapes, pomegranates, 
dates, olives, and prickly pears are largely con- 
sumed. The national drink is wine, and the pick- 



94 GASTRONOMIA 

me-up aguardiente — white spirit — a crude form of 
absinthe but more wholesome, and doing no harm 
to the Spaniards, as they drink with such modera- 
tion. Their sweets are coils of batter fried in oil, 
rice boiled in goat's milk, meringues of sugar, and 
dainty little biscuits. Their quince and fig breads, 
made from the pulp of these fruits and pressed hard 
as cheese, are very nice, but too dear to fall to the 
lot of the common people. Spanish bread is every- 
where good but dear, and soup is often obtainable 
where bread is impossible. Globe artichokes, the 
outer petals removed, and the cores steamed with 
an onion and served with thin mayonnaise, are, so 
far as I have tasted, at their best. Baked kid or 
lamb in macerated kidney gravy, thick, and a rich 
brown colour, makes a dish to dissipate all idea of 
dying. The puzzle is to find the contents of this 
gravy ! 

As cooks the Spanish poor have not received 
their proper share of praise. They have a real 
faculty for cooking, knowing, as by instinct, what 
things and proportions will blend and make an 
appetising meal. From end to end of Spain I 
have never detected anything I might regard as 
stupid, wasteful, or badly done. I have growled 
within — for it is useless to complain out loud — at 
the hours on hours which I have waited, but I 
never could discern that any more might have 
been made of the material composing the dish. 
This is a rare statement, and, excepting the French, 
could be truly said of no other people in Europe. 



SOME POINTED ALLUSIONS 95 

The asparagus, natural to Spain, grows no 
thicker than a rush in its wild state. It is so un- 
substantial as to be included in many proverbs and 
couplets. One of the best known of these runs : 

He who eats medlars, drinks beer, sucks asparagus, and kisses 

an old woman — 
Neither eats, drinks, sucks, nor kisses. 

These are known to be unsubstantial things. The 
thin green asparagus, fried in oil and then rolled 
in egg-batter, makes a most tasty omelette, and is 
a dish prized by every Spaniard. Once entering a 
village with three or four stalks of asparagus, I 
offered them to a tiny girl v/ho was sitting on a 
doorstep. She took them, and thanking me said, 
with great deliberation, '' This is well, sehor ! But 
where is the egg ? " 

When one goes into a Spanish comedor, the 
waiter calls to the cook, '' One breakfast for a real 
gentleman." This means special cooking for each 
individual, and nothing stale, dry, or cold. And 
in parenthesis it is never hot — nor should it be. 
I have never seen steam escaping from anything 
in Spain — for which I'm inclined to say, thank 
God ! For of all things raised and praised by man, 
I dislike most his steam, especially when it hangs 
about his food. England produces some excellent 
fare, but it is too often a vulgar sight, and as 
regularly dangerous in its consequences. Man 
doesn't want hot food — scalding hot, steaming hot 
food — in order to get the best of health and the 
joy of life. In Spain the whole business of man is 



96 GASTRONOMIA 

to keep cool, where in England it is to keep hot 
and blow it ! 

Nearly all Spaniards take deep draughts of 
crystal - clear water before and with their food. 
They also have a less rational habit of '' cleaning 
the mouth " with a cigarette between the courses. 
This does not offend the w^omen folk, for unless 
they are travellers they rarely, if ever, sit down 
with the men — a boy of ten having more right to 
the table than a woman of any age. The Spaniards 
eat and drink very slowly, as if bent on killing 
rather than improving time, and it is an odd fact 
that the peasants eat and drink with far more 
grace than their richer relations. The fingers are 
used alike by rich and poor in carrying food to the 
mouth, and where knives are employed, as they 
are in the north and west, they are poked into the 
mouth as readily as any other table article. In the 
highest society food is handled a great deal, and 
it is a mark of attention to be fed from the fingers. 

The domestic habits are primitive rather than 
objectionable. The toothpicks of southern Spain 
are often made from petroleum cases, because the 
wood splits well ! Result, one finishes the meal 
with a taste of lamp-oil in nose or mouth. I'm 
an uncultivated dog because I don't like the 
flavour or the '' perfume." The Spaniards do ! 

In Spain it is vulgar to leave anything on one's 
plate, and in taking fried eggs it is customary to 
mop up the yolks with bread held in the fingers. 
Using a knife and fork, a waiter looking at me 



NOR TIME NOR ORDER 97 

inquired cynically, '' Are there no eggs in your 
country ? '' '' Oh, yes/' *' I thought there were 
not, by the mess you are making of that one/' 

The two-meal system would answer well enough 
if the food were abundant and served punctually. 
But these advantages are never found together ; 
hours for breakfast and dinner cover the whole 
range of the clock. And one is always deceived, for 
Spanish cooks will promise anything. On asking 
when you may have a meal they reply, '' When 
you wish.'' Should you say, '' Well, I'll have my 
breakfast at ten," you have done nothing more 
than waste words and invite disappointment, nor 
would the choice of another hour be any better. 
I have often had my breakfast so late as to think 
it an early dinner, and my dinner so far into the 
night as to regard it as an early breakfast. On 
this subject I confess to have lost patience. The 
Spaniards cannot conceive any difference between 
early and late, punctual or unpunctual meals. 

In domestic, as in other affairs, there is no con- 
cern for time nor sense of order in work. The 
church bells, the appearance of certain hawkers, 
or more or less regular passers-by, provide a rude 
clock. And in the matter of a meal, well, you will 
be told when it is ready. The patience of the men 
is extraordinary; in fact, no one could imagine such 
patience in a hungry and independent soul, and 
the Spaniard is both. Men will enter an eating- 
house and say, " When can we have a meal ? " and 
the housekeeper replies, *' At this moment." The 



98 GASTRONOMIA 

men will sit, talk, and look round, roll and ex- 
change cigarettes, and start subject after subject, 
putting in two or three solid hours, and never 
show signs of impatience or utter a word to urge 
the housekeeper or complain in any way. I have 
seen this scores of times, and have been the victim 
as often myself. And by way of exception I have 
heard but one man complain, and he a commercial 
traveller who had to think about trains. On going 
into a new house one may ask for mere form's 
sake, '' When are the meal times ? " to be met 
with, ''When you please." And supposing you 
say, '' Well, breakfast at ten, dinner at six," the 
seiiora agrees with evident delight. But that is 
nothing. Something has to be said, so why not 
agree with the sefior ! At ten there will be no 
breakfast, nor at eleven ; there may be at one, 
but it is more likely to be at two. xAnd if you 
complain 3^ou are silenced with the inquiry, 
''What is the difference?" Argue, abuse, con- 
demn, threaten to leave, and do so, you will make 
no change in that establishment or find it different 
in the next. Our cooks are always in a fume ; a 
Spanish cook is as imperturbable as an oyster, 
and enters on the task of cooking for twenty with 
no more concern than if there were but one. 

The Spaniards are shockingly under-fed, and 
where they get enough in quantity it is often of an 
unsubstantial nature. It is to this shortness of 
fare that one must look to their attitude towards 
eating and drinking. Nationally there is never 



THE GAINS OF POVERTY 99 

enough, and the greater number are perpetually 
on short commons. And this is no new situation ; 
it has existed for centuries, and there is no evidence 
to encourage the hope that there can be any lasting 
improvement. Out of all this long-lived poverty 
has arisen a sort of philosophic restraint, and a 
positive repugnance to complaining or even to 
feeling such an absurd thing as hunger. To want 
food is a sign of the lowest vulgarity ; to boast of 
a superfluity where there is none, is a sign of good 
breeding, and be sure the Spaniard would be well- 
bred. Thus one sees only the poorest peasant and 
the tramp plead for food, or express the fact that 
he is hungry. In the crowd all are well off. It 
would be lowering to hint at poverty, it would be a 
mistake not to mention that the excess of good 
fare makes life a burden ! As outsiders we discern 
and laugh at this boast, but only for a time, for 
we come to see that there is wisdom in boasting. 
It is justified by the calm and the simplicity it 
gives to life. '' Busy '' people almost hate the 
Spaniard for his sublime indifference, whilst if he 
had steam he would hate them for their mad con- 
cern. He will not have any concern. He says, 
'' Todas es mismo " — all is the same. He is nearer 
to China in his thoughts and attitude towards life 
than the Frenchman or Englishman who are at his 
elbow. 



CHAPTER VIII 

AT SEVILLE FAIR 

I ARRIVED at Seville on the Sunday termi- 
nating Sennana Santa — Holy Week — and the 
opening day of the Great Fair. Shall I say that 
the town was merely crowded, when I mean that 
it was jammed, packed, overwhelmed, with a 
noisy and animated humanity ? The religious 
functions had failed completely, owing to the ex- 
cessive rains and cold weather, scaring those in 
authority and responsible for the precious robes 
and vestments, and all the coloured and be- 
jewelled splendour which is usually carried through 
the streets at this season ; but to-day it is fine 
and warm, and a corrida — bull-fight — ^is about to 
mark the passing of Semana Santa and the com- 
mencement of the Fair. Ere I reach the great 
national playground, let me say that to live in 
Seville in these Fair days costs money. A pro- 
clamation announces that begging is not per- 
mitted at this season, and the residents of Seville 
are called upon to show all the hospitality within 
their power to the visitor and stranger within 
their gates ; but there is no word to the effect 
that normal charges only are to be made at the 



DRIVING A BARGAIN loi 

rest-houses and hotels. I was asked about twelve 
shilHngs and sixpence for a very third-rate room 
and two meals a day, and given a hint that there 
would be extras (not for me, but in the bill). I 
dislike extras. We all do, for we never know 
what they are, or if they are necessary and an 
advantage. Catching the eye of an official at the 
General Post Office, I asked him of a good casa 
de huespedes — a native lodging-house. He said, 
without a moment's hesitation, '' Do you want 
the best bed in Seville ? '' '' Yes, if it's not too 
dear." Then he signed to me, and I followed him 
across the beautiful old patio or hollow square 
of the post office. He led to where a woman sat 
at a door sewing, and to her explained my wants. 
'' A dollar and a half is the price of my bed," said 
she, and the gaily garbed official immediately 
said " cheap." I immediately said '' dear." 
Then the pair wanted to habla — talk. But it 
was no use. Expressive glances convinced me 
that I was regarded as a *' lamb," so I returned 
to the street ; here a boy literally took me by 
the hand, and with a most paternal gesture led 
me to a casa de huespedes in the Calle Venera. 
I am glad I did not resist the boy. At normal 
seasons this house takes in all who call with 
money and who will pay at the rate of five pesetas, 
or about three shillings and sixpence a day ; but 
now it doubles its charges, and so I am, I trust, 
safely lodged in Seville at seven shillings a day. 
I made the bargain before seeing the room I 



102 AT SEVILLE FAIR 

was to occupy, at which I laughed out loud, and 
then fell to abusing myself for my credulity. I 
have slept in some queer quarters, and often 
where there were no walls to make quarters, but 
in no case had I seen a bed in a place like this. 
This Se\Tlle room is about ten by six feet. No 
two walls are parallel ; the floor slopes as if it 
had once been a roof ; the ceiling is nowhere six 
feet high, and it roams about as if looking for the 
easiest place to flop down and crush one. The 
window is quite tiny, and looks out upon a blank 
wall which is not four feet away. I was led to 
expect a curious chamber by the way I got to it, 
for the house, narrow in the extreme on the 
ground floor, wound upwards in corkscrew fashion, 
and I am certain that it rests here and there, sits 
down, so to speak, on other houses, as a means of 
supporting its six rickety stories. I was amused 
and disgusted, and my disgust determined me to 
make a row and, if possible, beat down the terms 
of the posadera. She was a woman of a most 
agreeable countenance and very kindly eyes, 
which made it all the harder ; but I had no diffi- 
culty in abusing my room. She valued it at three 
pesetas a day, and this was her answer to my 
complaint : '' We have to wash the room before 
and after you. We have to sit up and open the 
door to you when you come home late. We have 
to give you time to speak and to think about 
your comfort. We are taking the place of your 
mother and all your family and friends, and for 



THE GATHERING OF THE TRIBES 103 

this you — a gentleman — begrudge giving three 
pesetas/* Then, with all the pride and mock 
heroics of her race : '' This is no place for robbers " 
(implying I should be safe) ; " this is no place for 
the poor ; this is no place for other than caballero — 
gentlemen — this is the house of perfection. What 
more do you want for three little pesetas ? " 
And then, oh, undying universal touch, she sighed, 
'' Ay, di-mi, I am a widow ! '' and with her white 
apron wiped away my last chance of arguing 
further. 

Proud of her victory, the widow Perez was as 
good as her boast, and cared for me extremely 
well ; and if any one of small means and desirous 
of living the simple Spanish life should go to 
Seville, he or she may find it at La Sevillana, 
Venera. 

In point of national display, solid business, and 
whole-hearted enthusiasm, Seville Fair takes first 
place in Europe. This is due to the fact that 
Spain has by far the most primitive everyday 
existence, and is the most anxious to preserve 
her mediaeval forms of trading, ceremony, and 
jubilation. She is not composed of one common 
and familiar race, but of many, and all as strange 
as so many groups of foreigners, and the fascina- 
tion of the unknown and the unlike leads to the 
making of a festival as cosmopolitan and spirited 
as any one could possibly desire. That nothing 
shall be wanting to make this a truly national 
gathering, the hat has been passed round from 



104 AT SEVILLE FAIR 

province to province, and private donors, various 
societies, and clubs have contributed. The mayor 
and corporation of the city of Seville have voted 
large sums for the improvement of the Fair- 
ground, for the illuminating and decorating of 
streets, and have paid no less than fifteen hundred 
pounds to railway companies for the carriage of 
costumed bands from the various provinces and 
centres of old-fashioned life. These regiones, as 
they are called, are the great public attraction of 
the Fair, since they exhibit and delight the heart 
of Spain, and young and old of every station and 
estate are carried away by the singing of the 
quaint old songs, couplets and historyettas, and 
the dancing to different times and tunes. 

Each group is made up of men and women, and 
none are very young, for it takes time to com- 
prehend and interpret the subtleties of the 
Spanish song and dance. But one thing is un- 
mistakable — all look and play their part. The 
dresses are charming, but they never hide the 
singer or the dancer. Spaniards have the most 
expressive faces, and these rude country-folk — 
who not a week ago were farmers and grain- 
millers in Leon ; vine-dressers in La Mancha ; 
muleteers and water-carriers in x\rragon ; goat- 
herds in the Castilles ; fishers from the coast of 
Catalonia or Valencia ; nomadic shepherds and 
esparto gatherers from the southern mountains ; 
raisin and orange growers from Malaga ; oliveros 
from Granada ; or a troupe of merry men and 



PROVINCIAL DANCES 105 

women from the cork forests round Cadiz, plain, 
working, peasant-folk as they all are — go through 
their performances with such precision and finish 
as to lead one to doubt whether they have ever 
done aught but sing, dance, make jokes and 
elaborate gestures, and generally entertain their 
fellow-countrymen. 

Prizes are given to the most picturesque and 
accomplished among them, and here we may see 
Spanish national dancing in all its forms. They 
usually take the name of the province which 
originated them ; thus there is the Arragonessa — 
commonly named the Jota. It may not be de- 
scribed, but it is probably the most proud and 
stately dance of all. The Malaguena is the dance 
of Malaga ; the Gaditana, that of Cadiz ; the 
Manchego, that of La Mancha ; and the Sevillana, 
that of Seville. The Bolero is said to have its 
home in Leon, but it has long been danced in 
many regions of Spain. The Murciana is the 
dance of Murcia ; and the Valenciana and Cata- 
lana proclaim their places of origin. The Fla- 
menca is a wild, hot-blooded dance of the south, 
in imitation of a dance of the Flemings, of which 
word Flamenca is a corruption. El Vito and 
the Jonda are types of Andaluz. The Tango is 
the lowest form of dance, a kind of khan-khan, 
or hop-and-kick affair without any special time 
or pose. These pretty well exhaust what we may 
hope to see in Spain to-day, and here at this Fair 
none but the best performers are on view. 



io6 AT SEVILLE FAIR 

The Fair-ground is practically a mile square. 
Within the city Hes a large open space margined 
on one side by extensive and beautiful park-like 
pubhc gardens ; next is the fashionable prome- 
nade and drive of La Dehcias which follows the 
storied stream of the Wad-el-ke-veer — written as 
pronounced. These three spaces form the site of 
the Fair, though the whole city is en fete, and all 
the streets and roads bordering or leading to the 
central point \-ie with each other in producing 
the greatest show and the biggest crowd. Count- 
ing the houses of wood and canvas which have 
been erected specially for this festival, as well as 
those which are within the Fair zone, there must 
be fully thirty miles of streets new and strange. 
No other people go so far in the use of bunting, 
greenery^ and such material as will put a new face 
on the fronts of their dear old houses. Every- 
thing that the house holds in the way of colour 
and braver}' is hung outside, and where paint, 
whitewash, coloured papers, and flowers in many 
hands would be weak gauds, they become in 
those of a Spaniard veritable triumphs in the 
way of decoration and general effect. The powers 
that be have laid out the site as if for a permanent 
town, and all the streets and footpaths are pro- 
perly formed and laid \rith a warm, bro\STiish 
yellow sand which agrees excellently \rith the 
buildings and the general display of colour. 
Gardens have been made months in advance, and 
to-day are beautiful \rith masses of roses, gera- 



THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 107 

niums, blue cornflowers, carnations, and mignon- 
ette, whilst climbing plants in pots and tubs ap- 
pear by the thousand. Whoever can afford it 
has a caseta, or private house, at the Fair. These 
are perfectly appointed little houses of reception 
and merriment ; this year there must be miles of 
them, each numbered and generally ordered as if 
it were meant to last a century rather than a 
week. One gets Spanish history at all points 
here. Every type of house, ancient and modern, 
is to be seen in miniature in these casetas. Vari- 
ous clubs and societies have quite palatial build- 
ings, with spacious ball-rooms, promenades, and 
all the dainty luxurious appointments so beloved 
by the Spaniard. 

The people bent on doing business are a vast 
army, and are from every part of the Peninsula. 
Thousands of horses, mules, and donkeys are on 
exhibition, and each in turn is haggled over in 
such fashion as to cause a bargain in the making 
to be one of the sights and best bits of fun of the 
Fair. Spanish mules are famous the world over, 
and here one sees the best of their kind. 

The mule-dealers are wild, picturesque-looking 
men, with any amount of character in their dress 
and bearing. This they somehow convey to their 
animals, for the mules are clipped, curled, and 
even shaved in the most fanciful fashion, and 
have ornaments of wool and plaited straw about 
their heads and tails which make them look 
quaint and old-fashioned in the extreme. There 



io8 AT SEVILLE FAIR 

are gypsies, of course, in thousands, but they 
have lost much of their old-time appearance and 
fascination. European gypsies of to-day live too 
near to the great centres of civilisation. One does 
not see the native wild expression any more. It 
has given place to a city-bred type of cunning 
which is repellent rather than attractive. 

Spain never had many toys of her own. Here the 
toys must run to scores of tons. Over one hundred 
and fifty toy-shops are arranged in a straight and 
unbroken line. Most of the things come from 
Germany, France, and America, and few but are 
common and without interest. Spain contributes 
fans, beads in great variety, garter buckles — as 
emblems of fidelity — models of all her utensils 
and implements, castanets and strings of bells, 
ribbons, sashes and handkerchiefs as souvenirs of 
the Fair, as well as a great many models of the 
peasants and their costumes. 

Of foodstuff there is no end — its odours fill the 
air. There are such things as national odours, 
the outcome of chmate, food, cooking, and the 
manner of eating and drinking. The odour of 
the Spanish crowd is pronounced but agreeable, 
and at the Fair the semi open-air kitchens create 
the feeling of abundance and comfort. Every one 
is eating something, for pine-kernels, various nuts 
and sweetmeats, olives, figs, almonds, raisins, and 
fresh fruit are desired by all. The local country- 
folk may be easily detected by their pillow-cases 
of food. They stroll about with bag and baggage 



OLD-FASHIONED GARB 109 

all complete, having heavy coats, rugs or squares 
of sackcloth, and a supply of food which enables 
them to squat down, eat, sleep, and be at home 
in any part of the Fair. Those who are sleeping 
in the open air without tent or awning of any 
kind must run to thousands, and this great 
national gathering is marred for want of sanitary 
arrangements, for the authorities do not recognise 
any form of indecency as a nuisance, and there is 
no water as a means of cleansing and sweetening 
the many thousands who live entirely on the 
Fair-ground. The costumes and accoutrements 
are of unending interest, and carry one over cen- 
turies of eventful time. The men are ever more 
old-fashioned than the women, and wear gar- 
ments and head-gear which can be traced to other 
and far-off lands. Thus there is the montero, or 
helmet-shaped sheepskin hat, which is said to 
have its origin in early Greece, and the curiously 
small-topped and wide-brimmed sombrero, which 
in some unknown way came from ancient Thes- 
saly, and is now worn by the picador in his bouts 
with the Andalusian bulls. The jackets, breeches, 
and vestments are of silk, cotton, plush, velvet, 
and cord, and the dominating colours violet, 
yellow, purple, green, and brown. The quaintness 
of design and the amount of ingenuity and 
patience displayed in these hand-made garments 
is past description, but one never tires of looking 
at and admiring the variety of the crowd. Blood 
and gold the Spaniards call their flag, and the 
colours are everywhere. 



no AT SEVILLE FAIR 

Scores of miles of ribbons, flags, and streamers 
of these colours are flying in the air or decorating 
the festive band. Under all this show of bravery 
old Spain is aroused to her utmost ; the national 
spirit is awake, so that every one seems bent on 
being generous and having a royal time, and there 
is no class but comes and throws in its lot with 
the rest. The highest of the aristocracy, the most 
beautiful women and gallant and elegant men 
join the crowd and take all things in common. 
There is a set programme of events for each day, 
but, as usual, the most delightful and lasting 
features are the unrehearsed. Jugglers, tricksters, 
singers, and story-tellers — this last an almost 
unique sur\dval in Spain — meet one at every 
turn, and, strangest feature of all, there is neither 
night nor da}', but one unbroken round of half- 
Oriental merriment. True, the serious side of 
life is seen in the faces of many of the stall- 
holders and continuously-worked servants and 
directors of the show ; but even these must enjoy 
the wild jousts now and then, and by turns the 
Fair comes home to each and all as the time of a 
life ; and further proof, if it were needed, that 
Spain is what all her people truly believe her to 
be, the richest and most splendid country in the 
world ! The bands are all doing their best to 
drown the roaring and bell and clapper-clanging 
of the showmen, and the crowds are shrieking 
that they too may be heard. The spaces round 
the platforms assigned to the regiones are crowded 



BY SONG AND DANCE MADE ONE in 

with shouting, applauding, and wildly-excited 
humanity, for here rush out like fiery torrents 
the passionate songs and aspirations of the lover 
of the warm south. There is magic in the click 
and squirl of castanets, and the rattle and stamp 
of nimble feet. Here is gesture, which is under- 
stood of all the world. Here is a singer inter- 
preting the lover's exquisite pain ; and here a 
soul sighing audibly in the tremulous voice of a 
mandoline. So that one is fired and calmed and 
made almost sorrowful by turns ; one grows 
weary, longs to escape, and counts it a blessing 
that all days are not for merry-making, and that 
when all is seen, said, and done, the supreme joy 
of life is not found in crowds, but in quietness. 



CHAPTER IX 

IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

DURING a spell of intensely cold weather I 
went in a train, that was as open and perish- 
ing as a cattle truck, from Alcazar San Juan to 
Albacete— eighty miles of flat, open, and bare 
highlands. Here and there a small town or village 
community struggles with a bit of churlish soil 
yielding wheat or wine, but in no place is there a 
sign of sufficient creature comforts. 

Pastores — shepherds — and cabreros— goatherds 
— roam the country, staying out for weeks or 
months with their flocks, folding them at night and 
during rough weather in corals— walled enclosures 
— against wolves, lynxes, and other beasts of 
prey. 

These, Hke the rest of the peons del campo— or 
nomadic countrymen— are the most wildly pic- 
turesque class of people to be met with in Spain. 
They are always a mixture of leather, cord, raw 
hide, velvet, plush, cotton, and esparto grass, and 
all so reduced to tatters, or merged in each other 
and the wearer, that any attempt at accurate de- 
scription must surely fail. 

Cold and hunger suppress the vanities, and the 



A WARM RECEPTION 113 

main concern is to be protected against the long 
season of hard weather. 

Albacete is probably the most colourless town 
and province of Spain. The inhabitants are robust, 
hardy, and remarkably quiet, employing few ges- 
tures and no loud speech. Their town is poor to 
meanness. It has no fine or interesting building, 
excepting the large church of San Juan, which, 
almost square in form, has its roof supported by 
two columns only. 

Albacete is famous for its pocket and flaying 
knives. These are crude but useful articles, made 
by men and boys who sit in porches and more open 
places, working the steel and horn parts by hand, 
and making up each weapon without any outside 
assistance. The town promised to be lively, for 
at the station I was met by about a dozen men with 
their breasts and loins girt about with blades. 
They carry their wares in curiously-fashioned 
wallets of lynx-skin spread over their foreparts. 
Beside a shop door two domestic white rabbits 
were suspended by a cord tied round their hind 
legs. Every one who went by either tested their 
weight or inquired the price, but no one seemed to 
pity the poor little creatures hanging head down- 
wards in the horribly cold weather. 

During a walk I was accosted by a man who was 
garbed solely in leather and rags, and had for his 
business the hawking of two lynx skins, soft and 
gory, which he said would make me a splendid 
waistcoat. Whilst I was debating with the lynx- 



114 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

hunter, a man came up who struck me as wonder- 
fully like myself. He had a wooden leg ; at sight 
of this I laughed quietly, as I had often been told 
that nothing less than a wooden leg would ever 
keep me at home. 

Many dug-out dwellings are to be seen here in 
the form of tunnels and pigeon-hole excavations 
in the sandstone, soft limestone, and masses of 
clay, which form natural hummocks around the 
town. Beaver-like mounds are to be seen by the 
score projecting above the dug-outs. These are 
the chimneys ; and as the cold was intense, boys 
who had no fire at home were sitting on the mounds 
with their legs down the chimneys. 

Albacete is the centre of the saffron industry, 
thousands of acres being devoted to the cultiva- 
tion of the crocus whose stamens provide the 
saffron of commerce. The flowers appear in 
autumn, and the plucked stamens are laid to dry 
on smooth earth floors, and covered if necessary 
against wind and rain. The saffron is a very old 
industry of Spain. Apart from flavouring and 
colouring, saffron is grown largely for the pro- 
duction of laudanum. The growers sell the saffron 
at from twenty to thirty English shillings per 
pound. The crop equals about tw^enty pounds per 
acre, but an enormous amount of patient labour 
is involved, and the saffron must be classed 
as a peasant industry. As the Spaniards say, 
''only the patient and the poor" can be satisfied 
with it. 



A SHARP CONTRAST 115 

The country eastward of Albacete is high, wind- 
swept, and very poor. Little patches of native 
pine nestle in some of the ravines and on pro- 
tected hill-sides ; and there are a few strongly 
built villages and the sky-kissing castle of Los 
Llanos to engage one till the Segura is reached — a 
blood-red river which boils, and turns, and tum- 
bles, through gorges and amid hills of leaden grey 
and reddish brown. The descent is so rapid that 
the climate changes within an hour from raw winter 
to hot summer. I left Albacete wearing prac- 
tically all I possessed — about three complete suits, 
and on arriving at Hellin I was so faint with the 
heat that I had to get assistance to unload my 
burden of clothes. 

The vega or vale of Murcia is renowned through- 
out Spain for its richness and beauty. Carefully 
examined it is wealthy by contrast, for the rich 
land is but fifteen by nine miles, and the surround- 
ing area is made up of absolutely bare and un- 
profitable hills an^ mountains. The vale is treated 
as a market-garden — fruit trees, the mulberry for 
silk, and flowers and vegetables crowding every 
inch of space. The thrift and skill of these people 
are equally splendid, and it is a hard fact that with 
all their toil they never get far beyond the reach 
of poverty. The vegetables grown are on the 
whole old-fashioned and poor types, but their 
violets and oranges are unsurpassed by those of 
any province in Europe. Murcia violets are sent 
to Madrid and to Paris ; but the choicest oranges 



ii6 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

are consumed within the country — the ** Imperial'* 
orange is in all respects a splendid fruit. Of 
medium size only, but of surpassing flavour. 

So valuable is land, and so enterprising are the 
Murcians, that one cannot easily obtain a good 
walk. The huerta or garden is all dykes, ditches, 
heaps of manure and drift-sand, cesspits, pigs, 
poultry, tiny adobe and thatched cots, trellises 
and trees — a confused tangle, which makes a paseo 
more fatiguing than refreshing. The whole area 
is subject to flooding, and the making and main- 
tenance of roads presents a perpetual problem. 

Raw silk is produced here in large quantities, 
and the white mulberry is trained as a high stan- 
dard tree, so that fruits, vegetables, flower, and 
farm crops may be grown beneath it. 

This is the spring season, and the time for 
cleaning all the wells and flood conduits of Murcia. 
The silt and black mud fill the narrow streets to 
the extent of tens of thousands of tons. 

A town guard says gravely that the work is 
done at this season because the people of the vega 
want manure ! And he vows that nothing else 
would stimulate to all this labour, mess and pollu- 
tion. Luckily, these wells provide only house 
water, and I am glad to be shown that the water 
used at table and for washing costs about a far- 
thing a gallon, and is brought to the house every 
day in enormous jars, which are filled from a 
spring in the hills. The Spaniards are among the 
few European peoples who know how to conserve 



SANE AND SILLY AFFAIRS 117 

and guard drinking water. They seek it direct 
from the rock, and avoid the possibility of con- 
tamination till it is safe in the pitcher. 

Around Murcia the andado or cradle is a wicker- 
work bell-shaped contrivance, which, broadest at 
its base, has small wooden rollers, so that whilst 
the baby is always safe it is amused in pushing the 
andado about and teaching itself to walk. Un- 
like the stiff and immovable stocks which fall to 
the lot of the babies of northern Spain, the cradle 
of the south is a very comfortable and pleasing 
contrivance, well worth imitating by other coun- 
tries. As no community can be sensible in all 
things, the Murcians sling up their draught animals 
when fitting them with shoes. Outside the farriers' 
shop are four heavy posts arranged like a byre. 
Into this the horse, mule, or donkey is led, and 
by means of belts, straps, and levers is hoisted 
into the air. What follows is a sort of tragi- 
comedy, for the animals are always frantic, whilst 
the people consider the matter as a desperate and 
necessary joke. Where an animal is known to be 
trustworthy, two men may undertake to shoe it, 
one holding the hoof whilst the other prepares it 
and fixes the shoe. 

The clay vessels for holding the water, wine, oil, 
and drysaltery of this region are still made on Greek 
and Roman models, and the forms are nearly all 
perfect. There is also the Eastern type of pitcher, 
with a pointed base, intended to rest in a frame 
or cavity of the wall. The street carts, laden 



ii8 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

with these picturesque ewers, pitchers, and jars, 
and the quaint fittings of the houses, are primitive 
and interesting in the extreme. In a small farm- 
house were three tenajas, or immense, almost- 
round jars, forming one side of the kitchen. They 
were of splendid design, and made of the finest 
glazed terra-cotta ; they looked hard and durable 
as copper or red marble. 

The Segura river makes two leaps within the 
heart of Murcia, and boils and thunders along with 
an unceasing roar. 

The women of Murcia are undeniably beautiful, 
and the poorer and shopkeeping class furnish the 
best average. In some regions the well-to-do are 
the most beautiful ; in other parts it is the 
peasants ; and again, it may be the factory girl, 
the shop assistant or the employer's daughter. In 
this part of Spain the shopkeeping class have the 
largest share of physical beauty. Eyes, hair, 
teeth, and skin are often perfectly enchanting. 

Like most Spaniards, the Murcianas grow fat 
early, from too much sitting about. But certain 
charms seem to increase rather than diminish 
with age. The eyes of the elderly women are 
often more attractive than those of their daugh- 
ters or grandchildren ; this may be due to an 
increase of knowledge and the absence of any 
strain, for they do little or no reading, and tax 
their sight only in so far as they engage in fine 
sewing. 

A large proportion of the Murcian women have 



A QUAINT CUSTOM 119 

bright brown hair, and this obtains among all 
classes, and it is as common in the country as the 
town. This, with some other racial characteristics, 
leads one to believe that the Murcians represent a 
very old stock, for country types do not change 
so rapidly as do those of towns. 

There is a gypsy type of woman in the road- 
side cottages round Murcia, who wears a large 
handkerchief over a shell-like coil of hair, tied 
curiously at the nape of the neck. She takes no 
end of pride in the coloured earthenware utensils 
which adorn her best chamber, but her especial 
vanity is a hand-worked towel, long and narrow 
as a scarf, which hangs from a specially made sup- 
port high on the wall. An elegant hand-basin on 
an upright hand- wrought iron stand rests beneath. 
This is something like a discovery, for the care 
these women take to keep the water pure, and the 
towel spotless, leads one to infer that it is con- 
nected with some old superstition. No one is 
expected to use, or even dares to think of using, 
either water or towel, and there is a look of terror 
on the faces of parents and children alike should 
the stranger go near the toalla y agua. 

The most pronounced defect of the Spanish 
woman is her harsh and uncultivated voice. Here 
in Murcia the impression produced by many is 
ruined the moment they speak. The voice is 
naturally good, and pure Castilian with the idioms 
of the provinces may be spoken with great charm ; 
but whispering and quiet speech are bad form in 



120 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

Spain. One must speak to a distance. This strains 
and ruins many fine voices. 

Then the singing of purely native song — and 
there is no knowledge of any other — demands a 
broken voice. Little girls and beautiful women 
often have voices as deep and harsh as their 
brothers. The rice powder, which literally coats 
the face of the Andalusian woman, and which she 
uses '' to keep off the sun," is seldom seen in 
Murcia, though the climate is equally hot. The 
Spanish woman is a striking example of what may 
be accomplished in the way of securing regard 
without the exercise of much brain. The way she 
does her hair, uses her eyes, dresses, holds things, 
walks, and remains superbly feminine, more than 
compensates for her utter ignorance of what we 
know as education, and provides her with a power 
of commanding more than is enjoyed by the 
majority of her northern sisters. 

It is hard to discover the difference between 
pride, fear, shyness, and sense of female honour 
in southern Spain. Women are most outspoken ; 
no subject is barred, yet they will suddenly freeze 
into silence as if something terrible had been pro- 
posed. I accidentally touched the elbow of a 
young married woman. She had been unusually 
frank and agreeable, but at this she turned away 
and pouted like a sulky child. Then she went and 
spoke in the ear of a much older woman, and the 
pair walked off in silence. This is due to what 
we would hastily sum up as ignorance; but may be 



DRESSING THE HAIR 121 

more correctly explained as a subtle fear or mode 
of caution imposed upon them by the men. And 
the man is equally hard to estimate, for whilst he 
is all eyes and jealousy, he affects contempt for 
women and is never detected in a serious conversa- 
tion. It is true that the lover stands at the window 
or under it, and gesticulates and articulates for 
hours on hours — and as much through the day as 
the night — but as he does this sort of thing for 
years, he may get out all his laws and decrees 
during the calf period. 

In Murcia the women dress their hair even better 
than do many in Andalusia, and nothing more 
need be said. Here one sees marvellously perfect 
and effective arrangements, and women who visit 
this part of the country must be exasperated to 
know that the best professional peinadoras (hair- 
dressers) will attend daily for four pesetas, or 
about three shillings a month. Those who cannot 
afford a penny a day, dress each other's hair. 
Many young girls look charming by having their 
hair parted low on one side and waved over the 
forehead — a soft billowy mass, dry, yet not a hair 
out of place. Over the crowns of the head stretch 
wide black silk bands, with large rosettes just above 
or behind each ear. This does not age, but gives a 
fine character to the young faces, and surpasses 
anything of the kind I remember to have seen. 

The short-frocked girls here wear full round 
knickerbockers tied below the knee with coarse 
white cords, from which depend large tassels. 



122 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

The old-fashioned dress of the Murcia men is a 
shawl and petticoat, so that at a little distance 
they are indistinguishable from women. The 
manta, or shawl, is an exaggerated neck wrap, and 
has become more of a mode than a comforter. It 
is twisted round and round the neck and head, 
and under the arms, and brought over and across, 
tucked and curled, in a quite extraordinary fash- 
ion ; yet the wearer may be barefoot or wearing 
nothing more comforting than grass slippers. 

The manta is often of barbaric colouring, and 
reveals association with Africa and Asia. Imitation 
leopard and tiger skins are much worn, and there 
are strips and stripes of felt, leather, and horse-cloth 
sewn together, much as one sees in Morocco, 
Egypt, and the Levant. Apart from the manta, 
and an occasional lynx-skin cap, the dress of the 
men is singularly plain. Nearly all wear a long 
black or cream linen blouse, with little or no fancy 
stitching, the same cut as that of a Paris work- 
man. Pimento — the red capsicum — is grown here 
in great quantities, and large mills are employed 
the year round in grinding the dried fruit into 
powder. This industry is so large that it imposes 
the colour of the pimento red upon the whole popu- 
lation. Slippers, shoes, stockings, handkerchiefs 
are dyed to the same shade ; and so much of it 
is about that one does not find time to detect who 
is wearing the artificially dyed garments and who 
is a genuine worker at the mills. The market-folk 
are surprisingly quiet, and do not use their eyes 



A FAMILY COACH 123 

or gesticulate in the ways common to most 
Spaniards. In fact, the Murcians stand stock still 
before their wares, or crawl round under immense 
burdens of provender, and seem afraid to open 
their mouths lest they should have to close them 
on a bad bargain. One boy was so venturesome 
as to bawl, ''Garlic, a penny a bunch. Come now, 
do you want more for less?" It was a fair argu- 
ment. 

Nearly all the houses have flat roofs, and the 
fowls have these as their particular and private 
domain; in Castilian the word ''particular" means 
private. One sees birds perched on every bit of 
battlement and roof ornament, and very quaint 
they look, peering wisely down upon the human 
crowd. 

The tartana, a long low van with a heavy, 
richly glazed and bright brown tilt, is the fashion- 
able conveyance of this region. It is found a 
little further south and runs north to Catalunia, 
but is never seen far inland. 

As a family coach it is most accommodating, 
but only those near the ends can see out of it or 
get a breath of fresh air. Truly superb horses 
draw these tartanas, and the animals have their 
manes parted and trained to fall on both sides of 
the neck, with very fine effect. Although so small, 
this town sports upwards of three hundred 
carriages — loaded from the shafts to the back 
steps. Every afternoon the visitor can be inter- 
ested and amused in watching young love at play. 



124 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

Youths of wealth must always show their courage, 
'' monte '' — on horseback — and wherever a family 
of pretty girls is huddled together in a tartana, a 
dozen horsemen are to be seen elbowing and jost- 
ling each other at the rear. Pushing and crowding 
is a crime in Spain — unless one is mounted, and 
then it is the correct thing to ride roughshod over 
everything and everybody. The ride over, and 
the ladies safely lodged in the houses, there is a 
great deal of racing up and down to attract faces 
to the windows. In a manner unknown in other 
European lands, love is the prime concern amongst 
Spaniards of all ages. They are curious and inter- 
ested in every one's love affairs. No men or w^omen 
are too old, nor are any too shy or busy to talk 
about and observe the progress of the grande 
passion. Hence one gets music as the confession 
of love in all places and seasons ; and in Murcia it 
is particularly well rendered. 

At first this music is almost inaudible, and one 
wonders when the real plajdng will begin. This 
feeling is helped out by a peculiar hesitancy on the 
part of the player — ^he cannot find the right note 
or make up his mind how to interpret his feelings. 
He twangs the strings two, three, or all together, 
and then promptly stifles the sound by the pressure 
of his hand. He looks up to the window, down the 
street, over his shoulder, away at the sky, he hugs 
and he half rejects the instrument, and shakes at 
the shoulders. He speaks deep emotional words 
down in his chest, and tang and tinkle escape the 



CAFE LIFE 125 

strings. Then his eyes close, he turns his head away 
from the guitar, and utters a plaintive appeal : 

" Come to me awake as I know you in dreams, 
Bright as the summer cloud, pure as fountain water " ; 

or : 

" Nor with thee, nor without thee 
Have my troubles any remedy." 

He is passionate, primitive, almost barbaric, but 
so convincing that one is made to feel rapturous 
by this lover who expresses himself to the music of 
south-eastern Spain. 

Cafe life in some provinces is full of interest ; 
in Murcia it is extremely dull. The patrons are 
content with cafe and small talk. Taking Spain 
as a whole, the cafe has gone up in the world — it 
has grown sober and silent ; not that Spaniards 
ever drank to excess, but the cafe once provided 
all their diversion. Now cheap theatres, cinemato- 
graph shows, and most of all, " circulos '* or clubs, 
have reduced the cafe to a rest-house, and no 
more. 

Dancing, singing, and music, once so attractive 
and easily enjoyed, are now limited to a few dis- 
tinctly low places, where they are neither national, 
nor natural, nor pretty, nor strange, nor have 
they — as Ford remarked — *' the merit of being 
improper." 

At the best cafe in Murcia a man of about fifty 
played the piano remarkably well. He had a 
splendid head and fine eyes, and I thought him 
too good for his task, he looked a man born to rule 



126 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

and act in a great cause. One day I saw him led 
to his place by a youth, and I was made aware 
that my hero was totally blind. 

In this little town there is a club which for 
beauty, comfort, and completeness can have few 
equals outside Spain. The Spaniards are past 
masters in the art of making sensible and success- 
ful club quarters. They provide baths, gymna- 
siums, gaming rooms of all kinds, cafes, smoking- 
and ball-rooms — every luxury and convenience of 
a club, except a library, for they do not believe in 
racking their brains. The principal club in Murcia 
has over six hundred members, and the whole 
secret of the success of this and all other Spanish 
clubs is that the members pay monthly. 

Usually a duro — three-and-ninepence — and cash 
down for everything they consume or employ on 
the club premises. So one is able to say that the 
Spaniards are very careful in their pleasures and 
very careless in their business. The '' Circulo 
Mercantil '' of Malaga is the finest club I have 
seen, and I have examined many in detail in 
several countries. The Malaga Circulo has over 
two thousand members, and again its success is 
due to monthly subscriptions. The British may 
object that such clubs cannot be exclusive. No, 
they are not so ; but it is well to observe that 
there is more general politeness and kindly support 
in the '' Circulos " of Spain, than one is ever likely 
to discover in the most exclusive of British clubs. 
I make these remarks because it is evident that we 



IN CLUB AND CASA 127 

have a lot to learn in the way of providing a 
rational resort for men who must seek relaxation, 
and yet can make choice of nothing better than 
the public-house or theatre-bar. Excepting such 
cities as Barcelona and Madrid, which are largely 
supported by foreigners, Spain has no bars or 
mere drink shops. 

The Spaniard enjoys company. He does not 
desire to drink unless he is thirsty. He does not 
ask his neighbours to drink, though he never fails 
to offer to the stranger whatsoever it is within 
his power to give. With an assured income, be it 
never so small, he joins a club, and but for the 
danger of his being led into gambling, he gains all 
he desires in the form of recreation at a very 
cheap rate. 

I never was one for gaiety, nor can I recall a 
time or place which I thought dull. True, I knew 
some things almost to surfeit, but could always 
look or feel or hope away from what was about 
me or insufficient. I write this because Murcia is 
extremely quiet, and if I had not thought about it 
carefully I might instead have written dull. The 
average visitor would say, '' there is nothing to 
see and nowhere to go,'' facts I will not dispute ; 
but you cannot have eighty thousand human souls 
huddled within half a square mile with nothing 
to see or feel or think about. So I am just brows- 
ing, and in a pleasant way content to be here ; and 
not without some definable reasons. 

I am lodged in a poor but very clean household. 



128 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

where I can study human Ufe in variety. I should 
also say that I feel well off, which naany with more 
money cannot feel, because they are incapable of 
surrounding themselves with proper company. I 
pay about half a crown a day, and the capacity to 
do this and not talk about where it is to come 
from, makes me a veritable monarch of wealth, 
worthy the love and devotion of all about me. I 
would not own money or anything which might 
make me envied of my fellows ; but I like to feel 
I am envied for myself, and as I stand there is 
nothing to be desired of me. Still, here the bread 
is very sweet, and the simple bed the lap of luxury. 

I wish I could lay bare the secret of this ; but 
I cannot — to get the best of poor quarters and the 
absolute sympathy and attention of poor folk is 
somewhere near what I feel to be the most restful 
and joyous time in life ; that is, if we have 
sickened of the fawnings and insincerities of the 
crowd or felt the burden of toil-spent years. By 
paying a little more I could stay in a pretentious 
fonda, where I should feel poor, out of place, and 
a nuisance to every one whom I did not tip or 
tumble to. So one secret of being well off depends 
on living among those who are in some ways 
poorer than ourselves. 

This is a highly organised community, and like 
Schopenhauer's family of porcupines, they are so 
closely huddled together that they must needs 
prick or irritate, turn, scratch, and bleed each 
other. I saw four half-tragic rows in less than an 



CRIME AND COMEDY 129 

hour — at least, I feared tragedy would happen, 
but all ended in words. Loud and furious speech 
pays almost every debt in Spain. 

I had no sooner written this than my diminutive 
host came and invited me to witness the murder 
" funcion '' round the corner. 

Out of jealousy, a handsome young married 
woman had killed her maid. I asked what the 
punishment would be, and was told in all serious- 
ness that the maid had paid the debt. The mur- 
deress might be formally charged, but as she took 
the only possible course open to her she was bound 
to be acquitted. The comic opera element was 
apparent in this case, for the murderess's husband 
was the State Attorney for the province, and alone 
held the power to issue a warrant for his wife's 
arrest ; then he could not be suspended for any 
dereliction of duty without making a formal com- 
plaint against himself to the authorities at Madrid, 
and as he was not likely to do that, the public 
tongue was the only matter that moved in the 
vale of Murcia. 

My life in this old city centres round two women 
— Manuela, my landlady, and Rosario, one of her 
lodgers. Manuela was a well-formed and clever- 
faced woman of about forty, and had for a 
marido, or husband, one Don Anisetto, who had 
the appearance of an ancient mouse, for he was 
grey, wizened, and about three feet and three 
stone. In all seriousness, he was a man small in 
every way, and possessed of a cunning and rapacity 



I30 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

he had not sufficient art to conceal. Manuela was 
more astute and had a better nature, though she, 
too, was greedy and abnormally jealous even for 
a Spaniard. 

Rosario was a girl entirely without means and 
in such poor health that it was impossible for her 
to earn a living. A brother had paid a crown or 
so a week to keep a roof over her head ; but lately 
he had been drawn by the conscription, and 
Rosario was in a hopeless state of want. Apart 
from a pale and sad face, she was a beautiful girl ; 
about twenty-eight, of good height and fine figure ; 
her eyes, teeth, and hair were each and all per- 
fect and bewitching. What is more, she had a rich, 
sweet voice and a very attractive wit. 

A still more charming woman in the house was 
Teresa, a watchmaker's wife. She, too, was 
twenty-eight, had four children, and was a per- 
fect example of Spanish beauty. Manuela watched 
me like forty cats, and after a day or two came 
out with — '' Cual si gusto mas ? " (Whom do you 
like best ?) Partly to avoid strife, and partly from 
instinctive choice, I named Rosario. " She is 
yours. I give her to you," came from Manuela ; 
but if not innocent I was indifferent to her offer. 
Rosario's fare consisted almost entirely of a potato 
or two, sliced and partly boiled, partly fried in a 
little water and oil. I saw this, and cudgelled my 
brains and wondered how I might assist her with- 
out attracting the notice of Manuela. The hostess' 
quarters were on the top floor, Rosario' s on the 



THE WILES O' WOMAN 131 

basement, mine were in the middle. I felt I could 
spare a few pesetas, so putting the money in an 
envelope I awaited Rosario on the stairs. When 
I pressed the packet into her hand, and she felt 
its contents, she almost fainted, and implored me 
by old-fashioned speech, gestures, and sighs not 
to rob her of her last shred of reputation. 

She was in earnest, and her behaviour, as I 
saw it, was truly splendid. She was stupid, and 
yet she was right. She was a woman of Spain, 
and acting according to her lights. I withdrew 
to my room, feeling that I was a better-informed 
man. I had seen a woman at her best, and my 
heart went out to her. I had put my forefinger 
on my lips as a sign of silence, and she had under- 
stood. I went out and bought wine, biscuits, and 
chocolate, and rapping, put them at her door. 

The next morning I was surprised to be met 
with a black scowl from Rosario when I saw her 
with Manuela, ''Oh, dear,'' thought I, ''when shall 
I know anything of the ways of women, and especi- 
ally of these of Spain ? " But later she gave me 
the kindest of glances, and I saw that the scowl 
was the protection against Manuela. 

I provided afternoon tea for the household, 
solely that Rosario might get a little more food 
and company. Manuela enjoyed the *' feasts," 
as she termed them, but she openly hated the in- 
clusion of Rosario, and her jealousy was so pro- 
nounced that at times it made her quite ugly and 
miserable. As I was determined not to notice 



132 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

these heart-burnings a new scheme was put in 
force. 

Don Anisetto suddenly departed. He had 
" urgent business " in Cartagena, and after hug- 
ging me at the shoulders and shouting '' Adios " 
up and down the street, he shouldered a bag as 
lean as himself and vanished. 

Out of sight, out of mind ! Manuela waited not 
an hour before making love to me. But I was a 
brute, and dilated on the charms and good qualities 
of Rosario. A bad cold laid me low ; but Manuela 
proved a splendid nurse and had me right in next 
to no time. Teresa and Rosario w^ere all sympathy, 
but being on the young side they dared not break 
through the law of custom, so I never saw them 
in my room, though they would twitter and call, 
as they held hands, like two shy children, in the 
doorway. 

Manuela, finding me too senseless to fall in love 
with her, let Don xAnisetto know that the finances 
did not improve by their keeping two homes, so 
back he came. Where he had been to, goodness 
only knows. Certainly not to Cartagena. I 
imagine he had been li\dng in a sewer, or up in the 
belfry of the cathedral. He was all unshaven, un- 
kempt, and unfed. He was pitiable, yet I laughed 
(I affected to do so with joy) at his return. 

His little face had gone all to pieces during his 
few days '' urgent business." Poor little devil, I 
do not think he had had one decent meal or wash 
all the time. Whatever he took in the bag 



"THE LITTLE PATH OF LOVE" 133 

amounted to little, for it came back much as it 
went forth. The blackmailing coup had failed 
badly. I watched them with what I presume to 
call splendid indifference, and made all I could 
of Rosario, both before her face and behind her 
back. 

In Castilian a green footpath is called a bereda. 
A more refined name for a narrow path or country 
track is senda, and one who takes it is named a 
peaton. In Spanish poetry the senda is known 
as '* the little path of love.'' I did not take it, 
but I will own I often thought of the saying, and 
of the luna de miel or honeymoon of Spain, and 
still more of the German Flugende Wochen (flying 
weeks), which seem the most expressive of all. 
Rosario and I were peatons. I knew I should soon 
be gone. There was a rare joy in associating with 
this sweet, sad girl. All around were nothing but 
dykes, gardens, and orange groves ; and Rosario 
and I went out into the fresh air and gathered 
oranges, and ate them too as often as we could 
induce Manuela and Teresa to accompany us, for 
it was unthinkable for us to go alone, even had 
she been twice the age of Manuela, and I but half 
the size of Don Anisetto. 

St. Patrick is the patron saint of Murcia, and as 
the seventeenth of March meant holiday feasting 
and jubilating in true Spanish fashion — which 
means walking up and down and talking about 
manana (to-morrow) — I had a good chance to pro- 
vide an additional feast for Rosario. Then we 



134 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

went to the huerta, and though the day was 
lovely, and the world a paradise, she fainted, the 
walk and the joy of it were too much for her. 
With wine and such light food as I could buy I 
tried to sustain her, but I grew sad as I pondered 
over her fate. She had '' friends " in Alicante, 
Valencia, or some town to the north. I was 
journeying in that direction. Could I help her ? 
Laughingly she would say '^ Yes,'' but I never 
knew how far she trusted me. As a Spaniard I 
should say not very far. 

One day when we were trespassing on a little 
estate, the rural guard, knowing I was a stranger, 
demanded my papers. At the sight of the word 
'' Professor " he lifted his eyebrows, folded the 
paper, and handing it back said with quiet de- 
cision, '' I have a brother a Professor — of dress- 
cutting ! '' 

Coming home, we fell in with a painter who had 
been out sketching spring scenes, which he in- 
tended hawking and offering for a few pesetas 
each in the clubs and cafes of the town. He was 
a very interesting man, and amongst others made 
the remark, " It's fortunate that the painter works 
in heaven, for he lives in hell ! " 

I recall a most charming boy in Murcia. His 
parents lived on a floor below mine and were 
tenants of Manuela. This boy of four or five was 
beautifully formed, with a round but well-drawn 
face and great melting black eyes. Usually, when 
I was at meals, he would climb — for he was not 



A MURCIAN BOY 135 

man enough to walk — up the steep stairs, and, 
arriving at the landing where the kitchen and 
dining crib were both open to him, for neither had 
a door, he would fall, fairly puffed, over the top 
step, and with his chin on the floor say, in the 
most august and fascinating tone, as if he were 
playing bear or bogey-man, '' Buen provecho,'' 
or, May it do you good ! 

I always thanked him and asked him if he 
would share the meal, when he would thank me 
for my offer, and giving me a profound side bow, 
he would pass into the kitchen to borrow or return 
some utensil or scrap for his mother. Once I gave 
him a biscuit, and he sat in a high chair and ate 
it. As I left the room it was my turn to say '' Buen 
provecho." He immediately wriggled down out 
of the chair and said with the calm and pose of a 
courtier, ''Igualmente'' — The same to you — for I 
had just dined. Nothing could disturb or show 
this child in other than a splendid light. 

He must have had a fine mother, but I never 
saw her. I often remarked to Manuela that he was 
a lovely boy, but she either showed signs of 
jealousy or went off on another tack. Once she 
paid him a scarcely accurate compliment when she 
said, '' El es muy listo " — He is very sharp. 

Manuela was in some ways a masterful woman, 
and positively grieved because she could not bring 
me to her feet. All she wished was that I should 
stay in Murcia and keep the house going, for she 
either affected to be, or was, very poor, and con- 



136 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS 

sidered that an eccentric '' Ingles'' with a weak- 
ness for throwing money about must be retained 
at all hazards. She had travelled as far north as 
Paris, and as far south as Algiers. She knew a 
little French and some Arabic, had a real faculty 
for speaking, was splendidly domesticated, yet she 
could neither read nor write a single word in any 
tongue. So anxious was she to impress me that 
her slightest favours took this form. '' I am going 
to oblige you.'' '' I am obliging you." '' I have 
obliged you." She was a real, if not in all ways 
attractive, character ; and so I dwell upon her — 
though not in the same way that she dwelt on me ! 
One day she brought home a jug of olives of extra 
poor quality, but amongst them one crescent- 
shaped little fellow, known through all the Medi- 
terranean countries as the cuerno cabra, or goat's- 
horn. 

I remarked to Manuela that this kind when well 
grown and preserved was the most favoured and 
the dearest of all olives. '' Yes," she said ; ** I 
know, and that's why I bought them for you ! " 

Once I inquired for my table-napkin, and 
Manuela snapped, '' Patience, it's washing day ! " 
which shows that if poverty is no sin it is some- 
times an inconvenience. 

_When it was decided that I should leave Murcia, 
great preparations were made to give me a proper 
send-off. Manuela named all her favourite cakes 
and other confections, and told me of the shops 
where they could be bought. Don Anisetto said 



FUN AND FAREWELL 137 

there must be a real burst or " buen cargo '' of 
wine, and he went out and brought back bottles 
of three or four splendid brands. I found he 
bought or borrowed bottles only, and filled them 
from the remainder of my stock of common stuff 
in the kitchen. I looked at him as much as to 
say, ''You're a daylight swindler,'' and he looked 
me full in the face as if to say, ''Am I not a clever 
dog ?" At least, I enjoyed some aspects of this 
house and its inmates ; and among them Murcia 
has a fixed place in my memory. We toasted and 
wished each other good-bye, and "You will return, 
Sir Carlos," were the last words I heard from 
Rosario, as long after midnight she pressed my 
hand and passed down the dark stairs. 



CHAPTER X 

THE SEAT OF MARS 

NEARLY all the country between Murcia and 
Cartagena is irretrievably sterile. I found 
a lodging at the fonda " La Piha," in the Calle del 
Aire — the first time I have observed Spaniards 
honour a house with that element. This is not 
intended for a guide-book, but I may say, for the 
benefit of those who do not know, that Cartagena 
was founded by Hasdrubal — from Carthage — as a 
rival and menace to Rome. It was used as a 
striking base after the first Punic War in which 
the Carthaginians in Sicily failed. From this 
New Carthage, Hannibal set out to end the dis- 
pute over Saguntum ; thence taking the coastal 
route he passed into Gaul and on to Italy, intend- 
ing to subdue Rome, In those times Cartagena 
had a much larger bay or harbour than at present. 
The old city stood on what was practically an 
island ; but by reclamation and the silting-up of 
rivers and lagoons the water area has been greatly 
reduced. The surrounding hills which tower al- 
most to the height of mountains, and also the 
site of Cartagena, are of very hard stone ; but so 
much cutting and carving has been done that 

138 



CARTAGENA IN OUTLINE 139 

little or nothing remains of the actual surfaces of 
early times. On the other hand, the outlying 
hills and their forts and farolas — lighthouses — are 
much as they were two thousand years ago. 
Nothing is discernible or discoverable of the first 
military builders. Digging yields nothing earlier 
than Roman. The situation is wonderfully 
strong. The mountain-girt harbour is still re- 
nowned, and it must have been even more im- 
pressive and impregnable in the days when galleys 
were the greatest ships of war. All the walls of 
rock are of the mighty kind. They are inscrutable, 
and in all seasons wear a hard steel-grey tone — the 
face of relentless war. 

The T-shaped harbour within the narrow strait 
is not more than a mile or so in length or breadth, 
but is deep and rock-bound on every shore, and 
its waters are as blue, soft, and odourless as a 
fresh- water lake. 

As a town, Cartagena shows few signs of age. 
Comparatively soft stone has been used, and re- 
pairs are so frequent and haphazard, that, whilst 
they produce colour and a cheap picturesqueness, 
they do not carry one to a remote past. The 
oldest and quaintest things in sight, apart from 
the many ruined towers and forts, are the wind- 
mills with six to eight triangular and boat-like 
canvas sails. They are used for hoisting water, 
and one may count sixteen or eighteen in a single 
direction. 

At Cartagena one feels that the land has been 



I40 THE SEAT OF MARS 

made solely for defence, and the sea for no more 
than ships of war. There is no sand or strand, no 
landing-places, little bays, calm coves, or any sign 
of a foothold for man. Any novelist wishing to 
develop a rugged hero should come under the in- 
fluence of this grim spot. 

One evening I stood at the very gate of this 
storied harbour and fortress, and saw the night 
fall upon land and sea. 

Landwards were wonderful mounts of rock — 
fortresses terrible in their strength. The lower 
inland hills were in ruin, so many poundings and 
shakings had they received from little man. 
Over twenty ruined towers show from as many 
mouldering heights, and the city is sufficiently far 
off to look like the spirit of night rising out of the 
grey womb of the world. The composition of this 
picture is perfect ; it is an almost stupefying scene 
yet comprehensible ; and somehow it makes for 
peace of mind, and that sober gladness we know 
when isolated and alone. Here are the highest 
and most defiant of forts. Here the safest refuge 
close to the open sea. Here the beetling rocks 
defy further advance of the ocean, and though the 
waters look angry, the shores are dumb. The city 
sinks under a warm haze ; it is too tired to say 
good night, and there is not a sound. The air 
over the ocean breathes like a spirit, and far away 
across its leaden surface lies a low line of sullen 
blue — the night curtain running down on the 
African shore. The clouds above are in motion, 



LIFE AT THE FLOOD 141 

and as they move and change the pictures alter 
their size and character, seeming to cause the 
whole world to move silently towards the west. 

A row-boat or two shoots into the strait. These, 
too, are silent, save for the thud of the oar in the 
rowlock. Short Tyrian boats these, with a curved 
blade prow-piece, no rudder, but a stern which 
runs into the water like a tail. The dark cavernous 
waters by the shore look alarming, but the tiny 
craft approach them with no sign of fear. 

It is a coast without a river ; hence there are 
but few fish and these always close to shore, where 
the walls foster a little sustenance for the creatures 
of the deep. As the night descends, the air over 
the ocean becomes an audible voice — a kind of 
music, a dirge or descanting of the story of past 
years. I know for a moment the peace that is felt 
only at evening. Then a fisherman calls, and I 
am brought back to myself ; before I decide what 
to do a bugle speaks from a fortified height. This 
tells me to retire ; it is the end of day, and pro- 
claims a season of quiet and rest. 

But did I retire ? No ! I had leaned against the 
bulwark of rock which keeps the angriest wave 
from the blue haven. I stretched out my hands 
to make the grip more sure, for there is comfort 
in grasping at masses of rock which jar and throb 
under the pulse of the relentless sea. My hands 
were rugged and work-worn, pulled out of shape 
by years of toil in the service of a heedless and 
hungry world. Tears hot as fire welled up, as I 



142 THE SEAT OF MARS 

thought of my slavery days and the precious time 
I had lost. 

I leaned further over the bulwark of stone, 
stretching panther-like, as if expecting some quarry 
to spring out of the darkening folds of the sea. I 
looked to right and left — to be frowned upon by 
piles of forbidding stone. I looked back now to the 
ghostly city, with here and there an eye that shed 
its fiery gleam across the waters. I turned again 
to the sea — ^it was peopled, and the numbers grew ! 
Ships I saw — ships of many forms, all unlike those 
of our time and clime. 

How old are they ! Ships of early Greece. 
Ships of Phoenicia — from Tyre and Sidon, from 
classic Carthage ; and lo, there is one bearing 
Hannibal, that warrior and war lord. He comes 
hither to gird himself and march again^^ Imperial 
Rome. So proud, so strong, so gay was this 
Carthaginian company, that I failed to notice the 
varied train which peopled the seas behind them. 
I was precipitated into the Roman wars, and 
though all about me was strange I was a willing 
soldier and unafraid. Half entranced, half asleep, 
I lay over the rock. 

Not a soul or a sound disturbed me. I breathed 
out of ages on ages of time. I stayed till lost in the 
fathomless past, bound in the chains of time's story. 
I was alone with the stars and the sea, the rocks 
and the warriors of Carthage ; I was part of so 
many adventures as to feel indescribably old and 
averse to returning towards the few lights, which 



BARE EARTH AND FISHLESS SEA 143 

shone out to remind me that Cartagena survived 
the rack and offered me a bed. 

I took other walks, always to feel that the pre- 
sent did not count beyond providing time for con- 
templating the life of the past. The stern brutality 
of the place exercises a positive fascination. The 
rocks are like steel in their hardness and yield no 
sand. Where they are laved by the sea they are 
licked into such fine particles as allows one to say 
they dissolve into water. Their smooth inacces- 
sible faces jut out into terrible depths. In the 
absence of land vegetation, nothing is provided 
for the growth of seaweed, and there is none. 

The Spaniards, given to praise even the faults of 
their land, say here, '' Sea without fish. River- 
beds without water. Country without soil. Women 
without shame." 

Truly there is little for the virtues to thrive on. 
The sea makes no perceptible ebb and flow ; and 
although there is a wealth of glorious colouring 
over all in sight, it is a churlish and brutalising 
line of coast. No corsair but would find this a fit 
home for his soul to live in ; but to the landsman 
it offers nothing better than a spirit of opposition. 

Everything stands off and refuses to be sub- 
dued and turned to use. One may wander for 
miles, try for hours and yet be unable to get with- 
in a quarter or half a mile of the sea. The bare 
smooth mountains and walls oppose one at every 
turn. Truly, this is a fit place for war, since it 
gives so little opportunity for the arts of peace. 



144 THE SEAT OF MARS 

I had expected Cartagena to prove more con- 
servative in its fishing craft than the ports further 
south ; but it is not so. No fishing fleet exists, 
but a few small row-boats hang about the harbour, 
and hook and drag along the coast outside. In 
the strait, and where there are most fish, the wind 
is treacherous, and few can handle a sail there with 
safety. As one watches the few venturesome 
craft, taking the strait in the evening light, turning 
into the dark recesses, overawed by the cliffs 
which hang like thunderclouds above them, one 
thrills and fears the boatmen are passing to certain 
death in the cruel depths of ocean. 

Apart from the arsenal, naval docks, and a cer- 
tain amount of commercial activity, modern 
Cartagena counts for very little. One should go 
to see and feel something of the spirit of the old 
city, and I will confess that alone had interest 
for me. 

Taking a stroll I fell in with Manuela. She told 
me a plausible story of an actor who owed her 
money and was sailing for Or an in French Africa. 
She had come to Cartagena to make a claim 
through the French Consul, and the ride from 
Murcia had absorbed all the cash she possessed. 

She must stay in Cartagena for a night at least. 
How could she pay her way ? In her best black, 
which included a soft silk shawl arranged like a 
hood over her head and shoulders, Manuela was a 
combination of mystery and attractiveness, and 
her attitude towards me was full of confidence. To 



A DELICATE PROPOSAL 145 

my inquiry after the health of Don Anisetto she 
remarked laconically, '' The little rat is just alive/' 
As ''La Piha '' was a comfortable house, and as 
Manuela had no scruples, I offered her bed and 
board whilst she should find it necessary to remain 
in Cartagena. This she accepted con gusto, but 
she must return to Murcia on the morrow. 

Callous and careful, I allowed nothing to trans- 
pire which might cause Manuela to feel I was 
pleased to have her about me. Detecting my in- 
difference, she assured me of Rosario's unfailing 
charm and affection, and proposed that I should 
take her as far as Barcelona, contending she would 
minister to my wants, make travelling cheaper, 
and prove the delight of my life. Said she, *' Two 
can live cheaper than one, and live better.'' It is 
an old contention, but I had grounds for doubting 
if it could be true. 

I could with gladness take Rosario, but could I 
leave her ? What did I want of her or she with 
me ? I went so far as to tell Manuela that if 
Rosario had friends whom she desired to reach I 
would pay her travelling expenses. This pleased 
Manuela mightily, and she proceeded to talk as if 
we had arranged to return to Murcia on the morrow. 
But I had no such intention. The train left early, 
some time before seven ; and I was determined she 
should not miss it through any neglect of mine. 

Mine was a comfortable room ; so was hers ; 
what need of two '' quartos," as we were friends 
and alone ! Conscious that Don Anisetto was at 



146 THE SEAT OF MARS 

least big enough to cause trouble, I kept to my 
own quarto, and had Manuela up and in the train 
half an hour before starting-time. To pacify her — 
I agreed it was possible for me to return to Murcia, 
for I had to go within a few miles of it to join a 
train for Elche. I bought her a ticket and proven- 
der, and got an unusual amount of affection in 
return. 

The next day I received the following letter ; 
which receives a literal translation : — 

''Murcia, 28th March, 1909. 
" Sir Carlos, 

'' When Dofia Manuela returned and told 
me she had seen you I was rejoiced at the en- 
counter, but I fully expected you to come to me 
on Sunday. I was overjoyed to know that the 
door of my house stood open, and that a beautiful 
repast had been prepared for you, and then I was 
sad that you did not come. In your absence I 
must write and present my appeal that you will 
come to me, that I may talk with you over a sub- 
ject of interest to us both. 

'' Understand you, I am, with due appreciation, 
your friend, .< Rosario." 

This letter, though fully addressed, had no 
stamp, but a note that payment was to be made 
on delivery. It had no postmark, and had evi- 
dently been brought by Manuela and left for de- 
livery to me after she had gone. 

Doubting the genuineness of this letter, I waited 
a day or two and then sent a guarded reply, to 
which came the following : — 



FOR LOVE OR LUCRE? 147 

'' Murcia, 3rd April, 1909. 

''Appreciable Sir Carlos, 

._<f^ '' Seeing that I had written you and you 
had not repHed, I was very sad, beheving that you 
had no longer remembered me as I did you. But 
I see that I was mistaken in the moment that 
to-day I had the joy to receive your kind letter. 
Agreeably with what you tell me, I will go to 
Alicante or Valencia, wheresoever you may await 
me, but you know my situation, since you were 
here. I am a woman who wants to be good, and 
because of being so I find myself thus, for were it 
not for Doiia Manuela and her husband I should 
have neither lodging nor food, and, thanks to 
them, I have both. 

'' To-day I owe them fifty pesetas, and before I 
leave I desire to pay them, because they are poor ; 
and I, whilst accepting and thanking you for what 
you offer me, should be obliged if you would send 
me the said amount of fifty pesetas, that I may 
be able to do my duty to this good family who 
have been so generous towards me. 

'' I repeat that I should be much obliged to 
you for it. That is all I can tell you to-day. 

'' The day I am at your side I will tell you more. 
I hope you will answer me at once, because my 
situation is very sad, and you can brighten it. 

" Without more to-day, receive you my most 
sincere affection. 

*' I am, with all appreciation, 

" RosARio Sanchez.'' 

So convinced was I that these letters were con- 
cocted by Don Anisette and Manuela, and that 
Rosario was in utter ignorance of them, that I 
called in an assistant, and much as we debated 



148 THE SEAT OF MARS 

the subject, he was inclined to think the letters 
genuine, and advised me to risk sending fifty 
pesetas. I did not do so, and the sequel must be 
told in a later chapter. 

In this province unruly children are still told 
that '' Suleyman " is coming, and though he 
dwells just across the strait the custom dates 
from the time of the Moors in Spain. 

In Andalusia I have heard parents tell their 
children that the Carthaginians are coming ; and, 
'' Oh, go and live with the Moors,'* is an every- 
day expression amongst the peasants, when in an 
angry mood. 

All along the south-east coast the cottages and 
solitary houses have primitive wooden crosses fixed 
at their gables, a survival of a custom amongst 
the Moors when the Christians had regained the 
mastery, and it was politic to hoist a sign of con- 
formity to the faith of Rome. 

Cartagena is in some respects the most de- 
tached city of Spain, for it is so near to Algiers, 
Oran, Melilla, Ceuta, and the native ports of 
Morocco, and so many foreigners are engaged in 
trade between these places, that the population 
is much mixed and more of the nature of southern 
France than Spain. Nearly all the utensils and 
the trappings of draught animals are Moorish or 
Eastern in design, and where horses or mules are 
in pairs a pole projects above their heads and a 
yoke is let down on the necks, so that they pull 
from above instead of below. 



I 



SOME BUSINESS VIEWS 149 

One Sunday, Cartagena was en fete over the 
Misa de Campana — the military ceremony at which 
the young soldiers kiss the sword and flag of Spain. 
It takes the form of a parade and picturesque 
disposition of the troops on a wide promenade 
near the town. A cynic at my side remarked that 
'' Spain had seventy thousand men with the 
colours on paper — and newspaper at that ! There 
are nearly thirteen thousand officers employed in 
keeping the game up, the books straight, and 
their pay sure ! Otherwise, why all this flag- 
flying, bright steel, and blare ? '' I agree with 
him. Spain wants a small army to keep the peace 
at home, and no more. A thousand officers and 
twenty thousand men could do this work with 
ease and find ample time for play. Still, I confess 
that if I had to dwell in Cartagena I should want 
to be a soldier, so many are the temptations to 
climb to heights of vantage and growing cheeky 
yell, '' Come and turn me out ! '' 

Getting up for an early morning walk, I usu- 
ally found the waiter sleeping in the passage or 
with his chair-bed blocking the main doorway. 
This was puzzling, for the house was half empty. 
On putting a question to him he admitted he was 
'' the dog with the open eye,'' sleeping in the pas- 
sage to prevent the lodgers from bolting before 
paying their bills. 

Returning by the route I had come I journeyed to 
within sight of the towers of Murcia, smelt again 
the strong odours of its violets and orange flowers, 



ISO THE SEAT OF MARS 

and I have no doubt I thought of Rosario; but I 
was bent on the sober task of examining some other 
bits of peopled land, which took me to Molina and 
Orihuela. 



CHAPTER XI 

LA BELLA SOMBRA 

ORIHUELA, like the vale of Murcia, reveals 
a wonderful example of intense culture. No 
particle of earth is left untilled, and every dyke, 
ditch, and water-hole carries a reed or rush of use 
in thatching the mean mud huts of the peasants. 
The climate is so mild that the land is never idle, 
and the people are everlastingly employed in 
putting in seed or tending the crops above ground. 
The holdings are all small — two or three acres — 
and every one carries a certain amount of flax, 
which, after being soaked in a water-hole, is 
retted and sold to the spinners of Elche. As all 
this region is irrigated, there are banks and ridges 
unending, and the most permanent are clothed 
with oranges, date palms, figs, and mulberries, 
producing a most charming effect. Towards the 
north are salt marshes and mirage-like lagoons, 
enclosed by sandspits from the neighbouring sea. 
Here the scenes are quite Oriental. Grey, sun- 
parched hills, dry, quaking earth, steel-blue skies, 
and clumps and belts of towering palms, so 
numerous as to create forests. 

Elche is the most tropical and Eastern in ap- 

151 



152 LA BELLA SOMBRA 

pearance of all the districts of Spain. In fact, it 
is hard to realize that it is a part of Europe. One 
can walk abroad at all hours, and in every direc- 
tion, and believe oneself to be enjoying some fast- 
ness in Asia or North Africa. The little town is 
grimy, and in every way old ; but the grime is not 
bad dirt, only dust confined by the belt of palms 
w^hich stretches out for two or three miles on all 
sides. This is the only spot in Europe where the 
date palm is grown for profit. All the palm area is 
held by peasants, who work from two to three acres 
of irrigated land, gro\\ing artichokes, corn, maize, 
potatoes, madder, lucerne, and other crops ; and, 
excepting the date, their chief fruit is the pome- 
granate, which succeeds well within the shade of 
the palms. The palms occupy the boundaries and 
margins of paths only, but rise so high, and are 
so evenly distributed, as to make an unbroken 
forest of pei-petual shade. 

The roadway leading to each house is a rope- 
walk, as flax yarn-spinning is the chief employ- 
ment and mainstay of those who farm the land. 

Big families are desired and frequently seen, for 
the more sons and daughters there are, the more 
cord can be made, and this sells readily on the spot, 
for the town of Elche lives by making canvas 
sHppers and boots of various kinds, all of which 
have flax soles. The house paths are true Arcadian 
ways. The high, sighing branches overhead, with 
their enormous bunches of golden fruit, the rip- 
pling streams of irrigation water which awaken an 



A SWEET SINGER 153 

almost audible response in every expanding leaf 
and flower ; the shouts, chants, and sighs of the 
busy workers — for their tongues are never a 
moment idle, make a picture rare indeed, and 
nearer to idyllic happiness than can be described. 
I hear one truly lovely voice here. It comes not 
from a cord- but a slipper-maker, who sits in a 
yard under my window and gives me my fill of 
perfect soul-music. I feel inclined to interview the 
man, but think I may disturb and injure him if I 
dared to tell him what I think of his voice. He 
sings bits from the best operas, and apart from 
the voice being well under control, it has a richness 
and appealing quality which is most rare. This 
master of song is fat, bullet-headed, round-faced, 
and about twenty-four. Will any one take him 
on ? 

One feels that great singers should come out of 
Elche, for the whole community is bent on trying 
its voice ; and if we liken the towering stems of 
the palms to the shafts in a great cathedral, it 
seems natural that those whose lives are cast within 
this spirit-haunted shade should always be trying 
to make themselves heard, as they do. 

One old cord-spinnner every time he ran towards 
the wheel to attach the flax end, would look up and 
in an almost praying voice send a strong, clear 
appeal among the heads of the high palms, till one 
could hear his song rising and falling as an echo, 
floating away among the shadows and the curtain 
of evening mist w^hich was hanging low. 



154 LA BELLA SOMBRA 

The flax-spinner travels, in actual walking, from 
twenty-four to forty miles a day, for his work de- 
mands very rapid movement. What is more, a 
man must hurry if he would earn fifteen pence 
in a ten to twelve-hour day. Over five hundred 
men are always making cord among the palms, 
whilst their wives and daughters sit in the door- 
ways, making up some parts of the slippers. Then 
there are at least a thousand little boys who have 
for their task the turning of the huge box wheels, 
which generate the spinning power. Some boys 
have two wheels to look after — one at each end of 
the walk, that the man may work from both ends 
and waste no time in either direction. This forces 
the boy to rush from one end of the walk to the 
other — about fifty yards — with never a moment's 
rest, except when the man may stop to tie a new 
coil of flax about his waist. It is most amusing to 
watch the ingenuity of these boys as they con- 
trive to steal a moment from what comes near to 
being an *' eternal grind.'* Where two walks are 
near together the boys pelt each other with clods 
or bean pods — after eating the beans — and 
then, spoihng for a fight, they give the wheels 
an extra sharp turn or two, rush at and stroke 
each other down, which is their best -known 
method of doing damage to the person, for they 
have no idea of using their fists. In all their heat 
and haste they keep a reserve of calm, for the 
fathers and big brothers are always shouting 
''faster," ''steady," or "stop," and if the boy is 



NEAR TO HAPPINESS 155 

caught away from his wheel, there is a real and a 
most unequal Spanish fight. 

When there is no chance of getting up a row, the 
boys shin up the lowest palms and snatch hand- 
fuls of the small and husky fruit — for Elche dates 
are not perfection — and in their haste drop many 
feet to the ground, and maintain the motion of the 
wheels by movements and a display of concern at 
which one is bound to laugh. 

This is all very simple, human, and yet most 
rare — rare in the nature of a sylvan luxury for 
those of us who have too long been busy and never 
able to understand to what end we toiled. I had 
grown to believe that Arcadia must be as far off 
as Utopia, and that I might never hope to see it 
for a single hour ; but here in Elche, in the soft 
air of a spring evening, one has nothing to fear, is 
content, and feels sure one is near to the source of 
happiness. 

Days w^ent by, and I was charmed to stay. I 
sat for hours on hours among the palms — ^in the 
cool fresh mornings, in the hot noons, through the 
delicious evening hours, and the pictures, sounds, 
and inmost feelings were ever a source of blessing 
to me, and so I am glad to write that Elche is a 
restful and a generous spot, where man, by direct 
hand labour, and free from all the grime and noise 
of sickening whirring machinery and city misery, 
is doing enough to sustain himself, living rapidly 
enough, and thinking well enough ; and I come 
to discern and believe that the simple and quiet 



156 LA BELLA SOMBRA 

occupations of unambitious men are the only ones 
by which we may be soothed and satisfied. 

All Elche bespeaks age. Its city fathers issue 
''Edictos/' ''Manifestaciones/' '' Pronunciemien- 
tos/' and ''Decretos"; then it has its ''Repartado 
de Aguas/' a body of peasant farmers and market- 
gardeners who meet in the porch of the town hall, 
and, without ceremony, settle on the spot who 
shall and who shall not have water for his 
crops. 

At Elche I lived by the market, so near chat 
women took possession of the bit of pavement in 
front of my door, and piled huge baskets and nets 
of oranges and onions till I could get no way with- 
out working my passage. 

As a travel note, I say that one is never more 
sure of clean and generous quarters than in a 
market square. The people who keep such houses 
must be of the large-hearted and accommodating 
type, or they would fail utterly. What is more, 
market houses do a roaring trade, and there is a 
wealth of rough comfort and a degree of security 
in them which one may not hope to obtain in any 
other house on the same terms. Then market 
houses are almost certain to be '' respectable,'' yet 
full of the most typical and interesting class of 
local countryman. So, as a poor traveller, go to 
market houses. More often than not the host is 
so busy as to be brusque or unconcerned, but 
when once quarters are obtained, one may share 
all the benefits of the house and have plenty. Here 



LOVE, HATE, AND DEATH 157 

in Elche the market was on the sunniest and most 
picturesque of sites ; the fondista's face was 
always shining, her eyes and hair were so dark 
and ghstening that I have no doubt I struck 
the right shop. The food was not of the best ; 
but it was clean and abundant, and as I could 
draw wine as I would, I did not go short. I paid 
three pesetas, or about two shillings, a day for 
bed and board, and there was no sign of an 
'' extra." 

Elche holds all the material for a novel ; for it 
is full of charm and human types. 

From the tower of Santa Maria, one looks over 
a square mile or so of mouse-grey sandstone 
habitations. All the roofs are flat, the windows 
are few and very small, and the majority so shaped 
or guarded that it would be impossible to hope for 
such success as came to Lochinvar. But there is 
ample room for love and hate there, and the daily 
round of common tasks would well bear telling. 
Looking out from the church tower, and imagining 
the field for a work of fiction, a funeral came 
into view, with a pure white coffin, or rather a 
coffin covered with white damask cloth with much 
gold-gilt ornament, streamers and large bows of 
white silk and a white plush pansy, fully ten 
inches across, placed at its head. A bleached palm 
branch was tied to one side of the coffin, and the 
initials of the deceased were tacked at the head. 
Sixteen priests chanted a brief service at the 
church door, and about three hundred men and 



158 LA BELLA SOMBRA 

boys followed in a rambling train — the actual 
mourners somewhere near the last. It was a boy 
of fifteen who had died. The father was a small 
shopkeeper ; but he did not appear to carry his 
business instincts into the church, the priests were 
quite numerous enough to do that for him. 

After such a peaceful time it was only natural 
that I should set out from Elche with a boisterous 
and most humorous drunkard. Drinking and 
brawling is so rare in Spain that one almost wel- 
comes the acquaintance of a man in liquor, since 
it shows another phase of its infinitely varied 
people. The strong point of this drunkard was 
his affection ; he insisted on bestowing it and 
himself on me. 

I '' stood " him a seat in the tartana I hired to 
take me to the station. In return for this he must 
needs kiss me ; evidently he had made a gluttonous 
meal of cod-fish, saffron, and raw onions! He had 
a goatskin bag of wine, and though we were not 
supposed to touch the mouthpiece on drinking, 
the liquor reeked of onion and the more subtle 
odours of its owner. The low-roofed third-class 
carriage was already crowded ; but we were 
bundled in and literally dumped on the floor, 
where we sat, the drunkard with most of his 
weight on me, his arms round my waist, his stubbly 
cheek pressed against mine. The heat was tropi- 
cal; most of the passengers were women nursing 
market-baskets, and as they regarded me as the 
more drunken of the two, they would not hear 



SOMETHING LIKE A FRIEND 159 

of my standing up, so I sat and rolled about and 
fought for breath, and submitted to having wine 
poured into my mouth, over my face, and every 
part of me, till I was drenched and disgusting to 
myself and to every one about me except my 
affectionate friend, who, I will admit, paid me 
more compliments and promised me more pro- 
tection than all the rest of humanity put together. 
I wanted to see and say what the land is like be- 
tween Elche and Alicante ; but, in plain English, 
I don't know anything about it. I made it my 
business so to prime my friend from his own wine- 
skin, and my white spirit flask, as to have him in- 
capable of pursuing me beyond the train. '' Mixed 
drinks'' did their work. When last I saw him he 
was in a noisy sleep on the floor of the railway 
carriage. 



CHAPTER XII 

A FUNERAL AND SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

MAY we be led to understand and, as far as 
possible, enter into the lives of others ! 

One evening I took a walk, bent on no more 
than refreshment, and perchance the sight of 
some old ruin, or an extra fine view of the Bay of 
Alicante. I sighted a large cross on a high fluted 
column, and guessed it to be the local Calvario, for 
many Spanish cities have their cross-crowned 
Calvary Hill. 

In pursuing the winding roa'^' up the sandstone 
slope, I came to the cemetery)sand as the gate was 
open, and I had not been inside a Spanish burying- 
ground for many years, I turned into this one. I 
do not like cemeteries, though one of my favourite 
haunts is an old churchyard. Any one with a turn 
for quietness will understand and appreciate the 
difference. But of all European resting-places, 
these of Spain strike one as the most repellent. 

According to the size and importance of the 
community, the forms of interment vary from two 
to six or seven. Thus in villages are large pits, 
each receiving many bodies, whilst a few families 
may have their members buried separately, or in 

i6o 



GOD'S ACRE A RUIN i6i 

household vaults. These are ranged like bakers' 
ovens, round deep walls of brick or stone, usually 
so flimsy and so frequently disturbed as to present 
a perpetual scene of ruin, and the sights and 
odours are always repulsive. 

In more important burial - places, there are 
underground vaults, with enclosed spaces above 
forming little porches, chapels, or greenhouses full 
of flowers and symbolical climbing plants. In the 
dry chambers are photos or paintings of the 
deceased, wreaths, testimonials, letters of condo- 
lence, violet and purple banners and bows, charms, 
figures of saints and virgins, jars, urns, rosaries, 
palm branches, and other symbols of holy faith 
and human affection. 

More important tombs are surmounted by 
massive piles of stone ; and many by chapels 
of considerable size. But with few exceptions the 
construction is bad ; and the best of materials 
soon slip out of form in this intensely dry and 
devastating climate, so that the general effect is 
one of ruin ; and one bites one's lips at discerning 
the futility of building to defy the ravages of 
time. 

I went through section after section ; for if the 
Spaniards are in life equal and familiar, it is 
noticeable that in death they like to assert their 
social distinction. At last on the highest ground, 
and under a high wall, I took a commanding view of 
half the old city, much of the bay, the distant and 
low island of Tobago, a magnificent range of bare 



i62 SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

and purple mountains, and the churlish strip of 
lowland bordering the leaden sea. Here I stood 
to gaze and ruminate, and then to ask why I had 
of all places chosen such a grim spot on which to 
end the day ? 

Graves by the score were lying open ; and I 
was actually standing on a huge mound of sandy 
earth which had been raised by the sinking of a 
new pit, intended for those whose relations are 
too poor to provide coffins or separate interment. 
From appearances about six bodies were already 
laid side by side, and not more than a foot 
of soil covered them. Fully twenty more would 
occupy the same level ; then a new layer, and 
still others, to within three feet of the surface. 
The single graves were never more than four feet in 
depth. They were not of coffin form, but long and 
irregular holes. This apparently bad workman- 
ship is excusable, for the soil is loose and entirely 
dry, so that it runs on being touched ; and as this 
had been disturbed over and over again, and 
coffin-wood showed all through it, it was impos- 
sible to sink shapely graves. 

Three or four quiet, elderly men were still at 
work. One had for his task the collecting and 
carrying to a heap of the heaviest wood and bones 
thrown out. Near this charnel-heap were several 
new coffins which had held bodies, but all were 
partly broken, or the cloth and gilding was torn 
and disfigured. I asked no questions, and did not 
go within a few yards of this heap, and so was 



AT A GRAVESIDE 163 

unable to learn the reason of their lying above 
ground, and in such a conspicuous position. 

I went back to the mound, and as I stood there 
looking first into the pit, and then upon the com- 
manding surface of the world, a small crowd of 
men, and two or three women and children, turned 
a corner of the wall, and I saw a coffin borne 
towards me. It was on the shoulders of four men. 

There was neither priest, sexton, undertaker nor 
official of any kind. When they came to the pit 
before me, the coffin was put down and the men 
said as one, '' I suppose it's here ? '' Then one of 
the grave-diggers called, and wished to know why 
a body was brought so late in the evening. There 
was a discussion ; and one of the single graves 
was chosen close under the wall. At the same time 
a young man lifted the coffin lid, for it was merely 
laid on, and I saw a well-grown man of about 
thirty. 

He was in a black suit with neat white linen, 
and looked no paler or more deathly than most of 
those who stood round. The little crowd showed 
not the slightest fear of death, and their talk was 
quite lively. When the lid was put down, a man 
pulled off the bit of yellow braid which ran down 
the centre and across the shoulders of the coffin. 
Three or four of the children grabbed for this, and 
he divided it amongst them. Then, with his knife, 
he lifted off three tin-gilt letters from the cof&n 
head, and gave them to the children. Later the 
coffin lid was lifted again, and a man took a pair 



i64 SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

of scissors from his pocket and cut the trouser 
fronts from the ankles to above the knees. Then 
he cut the sides of the waistcoat and the coat 
sleeves. At first I thought the body was to be 
buried nude, but the lid was put down and pad- 
locked, and from the remarks of those around, I 
learned that the slashing of the clothes was to 
prevent their being stolen from the corpse. The 
coffin was now placed directly in the shallow grave, 
and we all took a handful of earth and performed 
the last rites in silence. Two men then fell to 
filling the hole — for it was no grave — and the 
others lighted cigarettes, smoked, and looked on. 

One wretched creature of about twenty-two, and 
very poorly clad, had a weird twist in his face and 
walk, and tried now and then to cry. He would 
lean against the wall, draw up his features and one 
leg, and wriggle as if under some paroxysm of 
nervous pain. Then he would straighten his face 
with his hands, and stand up with some show of 
courage, looking very intently at the work of the 
grave-fillers. This poor fellow was evidently a 
relation of the dead man, and he was most truly 
to be pitied. He revealed a singular incapacity 
to get rid of his grief. His actions seemed scarcely 
human, and yet as the central figure he was the 
most human of all. I wanted to offer him a 
cigarette, but as the others did not, I concluded 
he was to suffer alone. 

One by one we went off, each saying as he went 
''Felicidad," and God knows that I wondered 



THE UNFEELING PRIEST 165 

where it was to come from or to be found ! The 
Cross of Calvary towered above me ; and the night 
was coming on as I went down through an almost 
pestilential part of the cemetery to the main gate, 
where two fat and coarse priests and the gate- 
keeper were making merry over their talk. I had 
tears on my cheeks and a heavy pain at my heart, 
and their gluttonous faces maddened me. I could 
have kicked them out, and kicked them far, and 
made them familiar with mental and physical 
pain, of which the brutes could know neither. I 
wanted to persuade myself that there is a God 
in heaven, and that he has priests on earth with a 
care for the souls of — and, aye — even for the dead 
bodies of men. But I was proud in that hour, 
and conscious that the world's pain and ills, its sin 
and selfishness, will never be ended ; and it seems 
vain to hope that in this part of the earth we shall 
ever come to possess men, who, if they cannot 
keep us to decent living, will at least see that in 
the name of Christ and His charity, we are given 
decent burial. 

Alicante is a clean, well-built, semi-French 
town ; and its general appearance, sand colour 
shot with pinkish tiles and pepper-sprinkled roofs. 
But for a horribly smelly harbour it would be a 
pleasant place of resort, for it has an almost limit- 
less extent of strand, and fish most varied and re- 
pulsive, so that anglers of all ages are continually 
interested. 

My diary records some '' neutral '' days here. 



i66 SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

I do not complain. An old castle with a long 
story towers high above the town, and one evening 
I climbed to it and looked out on Alicante. It 
seemed to me as a broad yellow shed, from which 
the noise of the workers arose as so much knocking 
and calling. They were struggling down there and 
could not get out ! How sobering it is to sit above 
the crowd now and then ! 

Although I often think and write to the contrary, 
I begin to know Spain too well. It never for one in- 
stant loses its glamour ; but many good things have 
become commonplace, to the extent that I cannot 
pursue them. Henceforth life must consist in an 
intelligent employment of my time. Apart from 
what necessity imposes, I have no desire to work. 
Work is the world's mania, and I would be sane, 
aloof, and at rest. 

As a city, Alicante lives entirely by the exporta- 
tion of wine which is grown far inland. Ten or 
twelve large steamers come and go every day ; 
all their burden is wine and more wine. Most of 
the juice goes to France for blending purposes, but 
considerable quantities are taken to South America 
and other early Spanish possessions. 

The fishing fleet here is large, but the boats, 
with rare exceptions, and their crews are devoid 
of interest and very dirty. 

As a province, Alicante is frightfully poor — 
mountainous, waterless, and composed of such 
materials as furnish the meanest supplies of soil. 
Dug-out dwellings are discoverable in all directions, 



HEROINES OF YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 167 

and there are evidences of occupation over great 
periods of time. The dug-out dwelhngs of Spain 
would, if well illustrated and described, form an 
interesting chapter. 

About fifty miles from Alicante the nature of the 
rocks changes, rich soils form, and sufficient spring 
and rain-water appears to make splendid rivers. 
It is from these that the most extensive area of rich 
land in Spain — the vega of Valencia — is made. 
The vega extends nearly to Jativa, a small and 
extremely picturesque town about thirty miles 
from the coast. Jativa is famous as the birthplace 
of Pope Calixtus the Third, the grandfather of 
Lucrezia Borgia. 

In Alicante I had replied to Rosario's second 
letter ; and whilst hereabouts I received in reply : — 

'' Murcia, nth April, 1909. 

*' QuERiDO Don Carlos, 

'' I was uneasy because I had no letter 
from you, and to-day receive your favour of the 
9th. 

'' I am obliged for your good intentions towards 
me, and see your chivalry and good-heartedness, 
regretting in my soul not to be able to become 
your travelling companion, owing to the reasons 
that you explain to me. 

" I know nobody at Valencia now. If owing 
to your good feelings, and the offer you made me 
here, you will send me for the railway ticket, or, 
for a good souvenir of you as long as I live ; if for 
the former I will go to Valencia, and if for the 
latter I will pay therewith for my necessities. You 
are quite at liberty to act with me as your heart 



i68 SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

dictates to you. You have offered and I accept. 
You understand that in writing you thus I do not 
wish to exploit you. If^ as you indicate in your 
letters, it is true that you like [love] me [the terms 
are synonymous in Spain], this is the moment in 
which to prove it to me, for you know my sad 
position, which if it is not more gay is because I 
do not want to be bad. 

*' By registered letter I ask you to send me what 
you like, and tell me what use I am to make of the 
money, whether for the ticket or to look after my- 
self. I like you, not for the money, but because I 
have seen you are a most worthy person, for if I 
ask you for something it is not to exploit you, for 
if I had had money I would have gone to you at 
Alicante, and if to-day I had some in lieu of this 
letter I would go, but she who, such as I, has not 
money enough for bread, has less for travelling. 
Now you will act according to your feelings and 
the degree of affection you possess for me. I beg 
you not to leave me unheeded, and to reply at 
once. Since it is not possible to go and be with 
you always, at least I hope you will help me with 
something for which I shall never forget you, and 
if you send me the wherewithal to leave I will do 
so at once. 

'' Without more for you to-day — conserve your 
health well and receive the affection of her who 
loves you. Rosario Sanchez.'* 

The answer to this letter amounted to an offer 
to send fifty pesetas to Murcia, if proof were forth- 
coming that the money would be received by 
Rosario, unknown to Manuela and Don Anisetto. 

Sign and gesture are so much a part of the 
language of Spain that a stranger is often de- 
tected before he opens his mouth. 



THUMB AND FINGER TALK 169 

Much as the British disUke bodily movement 
and mannerism, they cannot know, and at the 
same time object to, the ordinary hand, face, and 
shoulder play of the Spaniards. Here are the most 
common signs and gestures — some of which may 
be noted as equally French and Italian. 

Rubbing the thumb on the forefinger — as if 
sprinkling salt — means robbery, jobbery, or some- 
thing to do with money. 

The forefinger placed beside or curled over the 
nose means, '' Mum's the word,'' '' I warn you " ; or 
it may be meant to hide the truth or subtle point 
of the thing said. This is a southern and rather 
vulgar habit. 

The forefinger wagged in front of the face means 
a decided No. 

All the fingers and thumb pinched up and jerked 
towards the mouth or throat means an invitation 
to dine, or that food is abundant or good, or 
would be welcome, or that one should hurry and 
eat more. It is a sign of want, a boast of plenty 
and of hospitality, and always reveals more of 
human character than any words. 

The hand wide open, and the little finger and 
thumb wide apart, bears a rough resemblance to 
the cantara — drinking - pitcher. Held in this 
manner and tipped towards the mouth the hand 
suggests a drink, or that plenty of wine is about. 
When this sign is made, one eye is closed and the 
face distorted exactly as one would on taking a 
drink without putting the lips to the mouthpiece 



I/O SOME VITAL CONCERNS 

of the pitcher. This face play is often exceedingly 
clever and as genuinely amusing. What is more, 
it is never vulgar. 

The wide-open and trembling hand, held trans- 
versely to the body, means disgust, indignation, 
or a plea for fairness. 

The sudden clapping of the hands against the 
hips means ''I give it up/' ''Enough/' ''It is 
fate/* "It is the way/' "I drink your health in 
vinegar." 

Pressing down a little finger with the thumb of 
the other hand is equal to, " Here you have the 
truth in its essence" — or, "Accept it from me." 

The arms curved over the head, and the fingers 
snapped, is an unmistakable sign of joy or happi- 
ness, as at sudden good news or at a feast or merry- 
making. 

Stiffening the arm and j erking a thumb towards 
a shoulder implies strength for any task or scheme. 
This is vulgar. 

Holding the open hand before the face and then 
letting the fingers drop forward means — " Stop, I 
know," or, "Our difference is complete." 

Straightening up the body and moving the head 
on the shoulders till one is reminded of the letter 
S, and at the same time lifting the eyelids and re- 
vealing a most intimate look, means — " This is 
all/' "This is my lot/' "God help us/' "Fate/' 
and similar thoughts and feelings. I have seen 
this gesture a thousand times, and never without 
being surprised at the extraordinary expressive- 



SIGNS OF MODESTY 171 

ness. One knows exactly what is meant, and is in 
some inscrutable way satisfied. This is the most 
fatalistic and unanswerable gesture in Europe. 

In offering anything, such as a cigar, flower, food, 
or wine, the hand is always jerked up suddenly, and 
the gift presented with an intimate nod and a 
stiff back. 

The eye is used with extraordinary effect and 
performs miracles of deception. 

A single hand-clap calls a waiter or cabman or 
street hawker. 

Ducking the fingers and arm outwards to form 
a swan head and neck, means ''Stop," or ''Come 
here " ; whilst the open hand pushed outwards, 
equals " Be off ! " or " Go away." 

Clapping the thigh is equal to an encore or ap- 
plause. 

Clinching the hand over the face or breast — 
a feminine action — ^indicates shyness, caution, 
modesty, reserve, or fear. It has grown out of the 
Oriental habit of veiling the face and breast — the 
most sacred part — and imitates the drawing in of 
the hood, veil, or neck covering. This gesture is 
most graceful, effective, and capable of revealing 
the finest shades of feminine emotion. 

Beyond all these signs and movements there is 
la lingua de amor y abanica — the language of love 
and the fan, as well as the evolutions of the mascu- 
line lover ; but as I have never '' plucked the 
turkey," I can say nothing definite on this sub- 
ject. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

VALENCIA DEL CID rises a summer picture 
of white and warm blue, set in an almost 
boundless frame of restful green. One thinks of 
Venice, though the two are little alike. The early 
settlement rose out of a swamp intersected by 
numerous rivers, and bounded by a languid green 
sea. This swamp, when drained and turned to use, 
formed the basis of a kingdom, and to-day Valencia 
affords one of the world's most striking examples 
of what humanity may accomplish when in per- 
manent possession of a few square miles of deep 
and well-watered soil. The more classic city of 
Saguntum towers within sight of Valencia — a 
glorious ruin — but still good evidence that the 
second Punic War was not so much over the owner- 
ship of a pile of rock forming a warrior stronghold, 
but rather as to who should possess this good strip 
of land. Saguntum was known as the key to 
Eastern Spain, and it was, in so far as it opened 
the door of the great granary of the plain of 
Valencia. Those old-time fighting men could win 
battles and maintain their positions only where 
there was a chance to dig a hasty meal from a 

172 



WHERE WARRIORS STROVE 173 

fertile soil. Coming to this spot in the spring of 
the year, one almost droops under the weight of 
actual story and rich natural scents which fill the 
air. The streets of the city are perfectly flat, 
but the old houses rise into mountains of wonder, 
and one bows in reverence, even where one does 
not understand. 

Though born and buried in Burgos, this is the 
actual home of El Cid Campeador — '* lord of the 
tented field," as the Moors called him — father of 
the swashbucklers and king of all national heroes. 
The city has been rebuilt many times since his 
day, and it is uncertain that he ever walked a foot 
of the existing streets ; yet we feel his presence, 
for this is his city, these his rivers and fields, this 
his sea, and it was under this blue sky that he 
lived to make stirring history and to lay the 
foundations of romance, which has outlived a 
thousand years. 

In the Calle Cabelleros — *' street for gentle- 
men ! '* — the houses are still veritable strongholds. 
Immense iron-bound doors give way to a low, 
covered court, large enough to hold five hundred 
blustering, armour-clanking fighting men. A 
marble stairway springs out of a mass of carved 
stone, and is so wide that men might ascend 
ten or twelve abreast, and have room for their 
bloody work. The light is feeble — a mere beam 
— sent down the chimney -like shaft in the 
centre of the building. Steeds snort and sneeze in 
dark recesses to right and left, and though they 



174 THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

are the gentlest of x\frican barbs, and their only 
burden my lady's carriage, their echoes turn the 
old house into a place of present danger, and when 
the fear passes we expect to see some terrible dwarf 
or goblin hop down the great stairs. It is some- 
thing to be able to realise our dreams — love and 
fear — and actually look upon the enchanted world 
of childhood. The city is still in its youth, or is 
the home of youth. No one here can be altogether 
serious and have done with play. The ghosts are 
not laid, but somehow^ we are not afraid of them — 
they are all such audacious and merry rascals. In 
winter they might scare a little, but in these bright 
spring days the Valencian blood warms and lives 
on the sunshine and the orange odours and the 
flowers. 

Strange indeed it looks for Spain to put off her 
Moorish cloak and veil and join hands in public 
play, yet that is what these Valencians do. It is 
Eastertide, when tens of thousands of flower- 
decked, hand-linked, romping bands of maids and 
men go forth to the '' campo " — the cultivated 
plain around the town — ^there to sing, play games 
and make merry, exactly as the chroniclers assure 
us they did full five hundred years ago. One of 
Spain's earliest singers wrote here : 

Come forth, come forth, ye maidens, 
The woodlands all are green — 

and though the " woodlands " are but low forests 
of pale mulberry and soft almond and deep orange- 



LOVE AT PLAY 175 

green they are centuries on centuries old, shaggy 
and storied, shady and inviting. The round robin 
is formed within the shade, and that wonderful soul 
music of the primitive Spaniard escapes the guitar 
till of a sudden a trembling voice is raised — a 
faithful imitation of the languorous complaining 
of the strings, and then the tale of the heart is 
told — never in true rhyming metre — ^hope and a 
regret in two uneven lines. The rice-fields are 
little mirror-like squares, for they are at all times 
flooded, and the foot-wide margins are unequal to 
the needs of two palpitating lovers ; hence the air 
is full of laughter and reproach, so numerous are 
the slips and splashings into the shallow waters. 

A visitor remarks that Valencia lacks colour. 
He seems unable to detect the splendid colour of 
its life. The streets are always crowded, and the 
crowd is clean and very handsome. There are 
no beggars, and little visible and objectionable 
dirt. In some respects it is a woman's town, for 
it has splendid shops, and makes lovely silks and 
laces, rare fans, fine leather goods and jewellery 
and furbelows to no end ; but it has many more 
enduring attractions, and its official class and their 
employments are as quaint and fascinating as are 
to be found anywhere. 

A kind of police — there are about half a dozen 
kinds in all — wear red coats, and by way of com- 
plete contrast the postmen are in blue. The city 
guards look like comic-opera soldiers, for they are 
all slashed and splashed with red and black and 



176 THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

gold, and wear hats something between an ill-used 
helmet and a battered pudding-mould. They carry 
sharp swords, wear a sleepy expression, and some 
of them have that classic attribute, a *' fair round 
belly " of white doeskin, so that one feels much 
tempted to play the wag, slap the body of the law 
smartly and bolt, exclaiming, ''What ho, there ! 
How goes the watch to-night ? '' Lying in one's 
bed the voice of the city makes itself heard, for all 
the night long the ''Sereno" calls the hours. He 
is a most useful person, but when not wanted one 
feels for him as did Calverley towards his neigh- 
bour's dog — '' loves him, but he will not die." El 
Sereno has a horse-pistol, or at least a Colt revolver, 
hanging to one of his shanks, and on the other a 
huge ring and bunch of keys heavy enough to sink 
Horatius. But, aided by a bright steel pike, he 
bears up against his load, and tramps his particular 
length of street, at intervals calling the hour, and 
'' It's fine," '' It's cloudy," " It's raining," " It's 
blowing strong," '' There's a fire, but keep cool " ; 
'' Get up, those wanting to catch the early train." 
So he goes on, according to his strength and the 
number of enemies he imagines are within hearing. 
But when you are out late, El Sereno' s virtues are 
undeniable. At a hand-clap he appears, finds the 
keyhole and the right key ; looks you up and 
down to see how you are, and how long it is likely 
to take you to mount the stairs, and then, cal- 
culating to a nicety, he gives you a taper — a 
glorified kind of match, which at first sight you 



BEATING THE BABY 177 

feel you must keep as a souvenir till you realise 
that after all it is but a young candle ; so after 
you have given El Sereno a penny and assured him 
you are not so and so — for if you are masculine and 
a foreigner he takes it for granted you are — he puts 
you on the first step of the stairs, and makes a 
rather rude remark to the effect that you must 
keep going. Once I heard him quote a proverb 
in an aside, which had for its moral point the ad- 
vantages of leading a clean and sober life. Valencia 
del Cid is an old-fashioned place truly, yet it has 
life enough and an air about it which savours of 
eternal spring. 

The Valencians are the most mirthful and 
genuinely light-hearted of Spaniards. At Easter- 
tide they reveal themselves in their true character, 
and one is charmed to rejoice with them, so sweet 
and invigorating is their display and happiness. 
This is the ninth consecutive day of feasting and 
diversion ; and still no sign of boredom or fatigue. 

They play many of our holiday and festival 
games — all I can recall except kiss-in-the-ring — 
and have a number of open-air games which de- 
mand forfeits and so make young men look ridicu- 
lous and taunting maidens happy. 

A most amusing game is called '' Madre y nino " 
— mother and child, — or beating the baby. It is 
played by children. A mother and baby are 
elected, and a long rope is tied, one end round the 
waist or under the arms of each. Then the baby 



178 THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

sits down and the mother walks out to the full 
length of the string. The other children then 
have to rush in and beat the baby without being 
caught. In her mad rush the mother frequently 
overruns the range of the rope, and in so doing 
drags the poor baby along and inflicts far more 
punishment than the mock villains. Whoever is 
caught takes the baby's place and escapes by next 
assuming the role of mother. This game is quite 
delightful — excepting for the baby. 

The Spanish newspapers nearly always have a 
column headed '' The Religious Life/' and devote 
a great deal of space to the functions and services 
of each day. Priests also come in for a good deal 
of notice in the doings, happenings and prefer- 
ments of public men. A newspaper '* contents " 
sheet in Valencia on Good Friday was filled with 
these words : 

DEATH 

OF 

JESUS CHRIST 

PONTIUS PILATE WASHED 

A FIVE hours' operation 

This had reference to an old and surviving custom, 
whereby Pontius, in the form of an effigy, is hustled 
and maltreated by the mob, and then washed and 
sweetened in readiness for this world or the next — 
I don't know which, for some told me he survived 
the five hours' washing and went about his 
business, others that he went below, and others 



THE RENDING OF THE VEIL 179 

again said he was bastante limpia — or clean 
enough for el cielo — heaven. 

Holy Week in Valencia is nothing more serious 
than a sober holiday. True, the people are very 
quiet till the resurrection is announced ; then they 
break forth in real earnest, and the oddest features 
of all are the little processions, made up of children 
or adults of the various barrios — or districts — of 
their local church, and a few more or less mysteri- 
ous martyrs and heroes. There are also babies in 
cradles and in mangers, and a multitude of wax 
figures and fancy candles ; for though it is the 
season of Christ the man, Christ the babe and the 
Virgin at Bethlehem are not forgotten. 

In the Cathedral I saw the rending of the veil, 
and confess to being surprised at its ineffective- 
ness. During a long service, when the point 
is reached at which Christ is declared to have 
risen, an immense curtain, arranged over the 
entire front of the transcoro or choir screen and 
support of the high altar, is supposed to be mira- 
culously rent in twain, and Christ revealed to 
the expectant congregation. Time was when the 
curtain was rent as if by magic, and heavenly 
music burst from a celestial choir ; but the 
Church is in all ways enfeebled, and spends less 
and less on unprofitable shows. The ''veil" now 
consists of a double curtain on rollers, and at a 
signal each half is drawn aside with a huggle- 
guggle sound, like that of stiff wooden cog-wheels, 
and that is the only noise. No music. No figure 



i8o THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

of Christ. No choir of angels. Nothing for the 
eye, the ear, or the heart to rejoice over. 

In Seville they make much of the '' Rending of 
the Veil," as they do of all their shows. I have not 
seen it in Seville, but as it is carried out in Valencia 
it is so poor that if one were not expectant this 
incident of the Good Friday festival would never 
be noticed. 

The Valencian fishing-craft are quite large, for 
the local waters are often turbulent and the fishing- 
grounds far from shore. The boats are extremely 
wide, almost round, have full, much-ridged decks, 
and a low bulwark, signs that they are made for 
rough seas and to shed water quickly. The}^ are 
nearly all painted white, and the bow-piece, pro- 
jecting three or four feet, is surmounted by a thick 
hoop of wood, rope, or piece of a fleece, so that it 
looks like a turban. 

These boats are practically unsinkable. They 
are manned by six to ten men, and carry two or 
three large pieces of white canvas. 

At Valencia one sees oranges in quantity for the 
first time — scores of square miles of trees, scores 
of miles of river, road, and railway, and scores of 
thousands of men, all scented, coloured, burdened 
with oranges. The orange crop of Valencia has a 
value of about one and three-quarter milHon 
sterling ; reduce this to farthings and you get 
somewhere near the number of oranges exported 
each year. 

As the King was expected, I was regarded as a 



NIGGARD NATURE i8i 

possible regicide, and shadowed by the country 
pohce for several days. But the Guardia Civiles 
have my complete respect. I know no similar 
body so uniformly alert, courteous, and well- 
informed of their duties. I have met these men in 
all sorts of places, and never had cause to do less 
than admire them. The only thing one might 
possibly object to is the cut of their trousers ; 
these are poems in wrinkles and crinkles, like 
concertina bellows, and every cut is so much at 
random that they fit nowhere, except where they 
are strapped in at the waist. The Guardia Civiles 
are said to be splendid marksmen, but they some- 
times miss the floor and spit on one's boots. 

To the south of Valencia the hill country 
is very poor, and the long, narrow vales com- 
posed of dry, stony, shallow soil. In the ab- 
sence of tunnels the trains are composed of two- 
deckers, and from the tops of these airy carriages 
one gets plenty of pure air and full round pictures 
at every turn of the way. But all this region lacks 
finish. Pictures are common enough, but the 
materials composing them alarm or displease. A 
village may show a score of washerwomen laving 
garments in a turgid and stagnant pool. This 
water may be used daily for a year and subjected 
to no cleansing save by the influence of the sun. 
Then the rubbish-pits, pig-wallows, and drains are 
in false positions, and there is no trimness or order 
in the domestic plan. Where the land is poor all 
intelligence and industry is used up in plotting for 



i82 THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

daily bread ; none are working to beautify a 
single yard of their possessions, and every ruin is 
half an eyesore. In cool and raoist regions time 
mellows and glorifies the builder's work ; but here 
the weak materials, unsupported by any generous 
or inviting landscape, look miserable in their decay, 
and proclaim the folly or hopelessness of human 
effort. In a country like England we may preserve 
the aims and achievements of a thousand years 
and see the land grow more beautiful and strong. 
Not so in Spain ; here time mutilates and dis- 
figures, so that every human effort becomes pur- 
poseless and almost unreasonable. Nothing lasts, 
nothing is within bounds, nothing remains private 
or hallowed. The very wind at all seasons howls 
as much as to say, '' I will have change.'' Fence or 
wall confine for no more than a moment, and 
then break, not into beautiful ruin, but into pic- 
tures of futile labour and hopeless loss. And when 
we come to the life of the peasant we find him want- 
ing in what man ever desires, a strong hold upon 
life. For if the eyes of youth are bright, the 
shoulders of age are always swathed in rags ; 
and if it can be said it is a blessed climate where 
the feet can go unshod, it is chilling to see them 
dirty and misshapen. The independent traveller 
rejoices in the gaiety and glory of the southern 
poppy-field ; but to those who struggle and spend 
themselves to win a little golden grain, the warmth 
and colour and brightness of the crimson weed 
avail nothing. More often the pretty fields are 



NO SIGNS IN DENIA 183 

the poor ones, they are the playgrounds of the 
weeds ; and one writes this because so many who 
travel in Spain cannot understand why a land 
can appear so beautiful and prove so poor. 

Towards Denia are wide marshes and meres, 
areas reclaimed from the sea and where rice is 
grown in great quantities. The rice cultivators 
wear a short white kilt, or petticoat, known as a 
camiset. Rice land soon becomes polluted and 
causes fevers, and there is a law in Spain for- 
bidding the planting of rice until the land and 
water has been approved by a medical officer. 

The Denians are a fine type of people showing 
much intelHgence and great industry. Their little 
town is beautifully clean and without any sign of 
a shop, or fonda, or anything to indicate they are 
in trade. Whether they are too proud or economi- 
cal to hang out a sign or put up a shop-front is not 
ascertainable. Their explanation is, '' We are here 
and known, and what is wanted will be asked of 
us." Denia is a very companionable place, quiet 
and almost Arcadian in its appearance and em- 
ployments ; neither poverty nor riches seem to 
disturb its folk. A splendid old castle covers the 
crown of a conical hill, and the town clings round 
the slopes. The fisher-folk are an interesting 
group, and use a boat similar to the Valencians, 
but much smaller. The catch is taken during day- 
light ; and just before sundown and supper- time, 
when the clear evening light makes a truly sub- 
lime picture of land and sea, the boats return to 



i84 THE HOME OF ROMANCE 

port, the fish is taken ashore, and a hasty auction 
is made, the hawkers competing for the first lots 
that they may be off to supply the housewives 
who are awaiting them with their deep basin-pans 
of boiling oil. On the beach, and up little white 
walled streets, boat keels of carob wood are laid, 
and many a boat has for its first freight a sleeping 
babe or a full cargo of playful children, who, as 
the craft nears completion, employ their brains in 
defining its sex and wooing the builder that it may 
be named Bonita J nana (pretty Jane) or J oven 
Pepe (young Joseph). There is ever an air of 
secrecy and suspicion about the smallest group 
of fisher-folk, for any boat is big enough to do a bit 
of gun-running between Spain and the Moorish 
coast ; there is the possibility of smuggling at all 
seasons, and coastguardsmen, carabineros and 
others in uniform, look on at each boat in the 
making, for its sides may be double, or treble, or, 
as a town official said, *' The deep sea may call for 
a deep (and hollow) keel." 

So with all the quiet of Denia and the peace that 
broods over its wide bay, every boat is watched, 
for as the fisher-folk say, '' It's no good owning a 
boat that won't carry any sort of cargo." 

Denia is the centre of the raisin industry. Over 
twenty-five thousand tons of fruit leave the port 
every autumn ; and though several other coun- 
tries have entered the field, the pudding raisin of 
Denia remains the best in the world. 

x\bout twenty miles inland a beautiful hollow, 



LUXURIES OF VALDIGNA 185 

amid the hills, is known as Dignified Valley, or 
Valdigna. Here is an exceedingly pretty town 
which lives by exporting what it claims to be the 
finest oranges on the London market. It is also 
famous for its Alpine strawberries, often over an 
inch in diameter. They have a delicious flavour. 



CHAPTER XIV 

VAGABOND DISCOVERIES AND REFLECTIONS 

SAGUNTUM thrills and charms. It occupies 
a glorious position, commanding wonderful 
views of sea and land, and preserves the story of 
over three thousand two hundred years. '' How 
full, how brimful ! '' one exclaims on wandering 
here, for though dead so long, it stimulates and 
provokes the enthusiasm of youth. History and 
romance make all the world, and we should care 
little for our own achievements if we felt they 
went unnoticed and unrecorded. Saguntum lies 
about three miles from the sea on a mile-long 
ridge commanding the great plain of Valencia. 
Its castle remains one of the largest ruins in the 
Peninsula, virtually a city on the crown of the 
ridge. No w^onder there was a row about the 
ownership of Saguntum ! 

Granada is in some ways more splendid, for it 
commands the eternal snows, rivers, many more 
trees, a cooler air, softer light, and its nearness in 
point of historic time enables one to see, feel, and 
imagine more about it ; but, taking Saguntum 
and the surrounding land and storied sea, it is a 
rare place ; this part of Europe can show none 

1 86 



THE BRIDE OF FATE 187 

more impressive. The Roman theatre remains a 
substantial ruin on the side of the hill, and has 
its seats cut out of the solid rock. There is a very 
old church at Saguntum, but it has been entirely 
rebuilt, part of a doorway alone remaining. This 
is still a show place, and a man vowed to me that 
the church dates from " a long time before Christ." 

There are several exceedingly interesting fea- 
tures in the domestic arrangements of Saguntum. 
The scarf-like towel, but without the water, hangs 
from the walls as in Murcia. Large blinds, with 
monograms a foot or more in depth, in bright 
coloured wool-work, serve as door-plates and shop- 
keepers' signs. Most of the shop goods are kept 
in immense jars and in deep recesses in the walls. 
The water-vessels are little barrels of cork, gaily 
ornamented with brass bands and a mouthpiece of 
the same metal. 

An ermita occupies a part of the hill and is 
approached by a pure white road, for all the rocks 
are kept immaculately clean by frequent white- 
washings. Sixteen little stations or praying-places 
are encountered on the way. When one at last 
gains the ermita, a rare picture, helped out by the 
fortified heights, the antiquated town, the life and 
concern of the rich vega, the distant sea, and last 
of all, the white road which leadeth unto rest, is 
obtained. This visit was made on a bright sun- 
shiny day, but later I came again, when there was 
driving rain. The wetting of everything added 
enormously to the impressive character of the hills 



i88 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES 

and forts, the old towers, and the old town. The 
moisture brought out the odours of the earth and 
their burden of trees, for there were miles and 
miles of oranges in full bloom, and the air was 
faint to sickening point. Why, I do not attempt 
to explain ; but I was compelled to think of 
Saguntum as the Bride of Fate. 

As one travels northward, mountains of hard 
grey stone rise to reveal many splendid scenes. 
At one part of the road a series of shaggy grey 
cones are poised like grim giants frowning under 
their beards of wind-blown mist. Lower down 
these giants have deposited areas of rich and won- 
derfully well-tilled land ; but even the poorest 
parts have the utmost done to them in the way of 
cultivation. The peasantry of Castellon are very 
distinct from those of the surrounding provinces, 
having quite negro features, and their implements 
and field customs are strongly reminiscent of 
Africa. 

One may take the northern road for a couple of 
hundred miles and remain in sight of the sea, but 
there is not much to be seen in the way of inter- 
esting garb or fishing-craft. As one nears Barce- 
lona the fishing-boats suddenly become smaller, 
like those of the far south. Sitges is the prettiest 
little town on this coast. Seen at a distance it is 
a perfect picture, and will bear close inspection. 
Its women are reputed to be the prettiest in Cata- 
lunia. But I was much more concerned with what 
it holds in the way of employment and human 



SITGES THE BEAUTIFUL 189 

comfort. It has a tiny bay and quay, a little 
fleet and its folk ; there are vineyards, and olive, 
fig, and almond plantations all around ; occa- 
sional palms and innumerable pomegranates; 
clambering bougainvillea roses and wistaria ; it 
has crowded little streets with pure white walls, 
dovecot-like windows, and red and white and 
yellow carnations growing bravely in almost every 
one of them. Then there are many detached 
houses with gardens and lumbering water-wheels, 
and a new world bowing and shaking hands with 
it, for Sitges is but an hour's run from the great 
city of Barcelona, and thereby gains in quietness 
and quaintness by contrast through its nearness 
to the modern world. To me it seemed to hold all 
those luxuries which are comforts, and none which 
are a fatigue and a nuisance. 

Half the journey from Sitges to Barcelona lies 
through tunnels on the steep cliffs by the sea. 
Windows are cut in the rock to let in the light ; 
one gets the most fascinating pictures through 
them, especially in the evenings when small com- 
panies of folk are gathering round the smacks on 
the shore. The other half of the journey lies over 
the richest of plain land devoted to market-gardens, 
small farms and nurseries. Parts of the country 
yield meres and lines of tall white poplars, pro- 
viding scenes such as French artists love to seize 
and paint. 

Barcelona breaks on the view as a great manu- 
facturing, chimneyed, and groaning city, lacking 



190 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES 

only one thing distinctly English — much smoke. 
Here life is varied and distinct from all other to 
be seen in Spain ; and it is hard to imagine wider 
contrasts in any land than exist between Barce- 
lona and some of the communities of its province. 

Mine host of Barcelona works about ten hours 
a day ; and, although he knows I am aware of it, 
he boasts without turning a hair that he works 
but a short six ! Give an Englishman six hours' 
work and he will make it sixteen, so pronounced 
is his desire to be thought a hard-working man. 
Here is all the difference. The Spaniard always 
underrates his actual job, and deplores something 
or other that is wrong with the country. The 
Englishman exaggerates the weight and import- 
ance of his work, and doesn't care a colloquial cuss 
about his country. This host of mine could be 
very amusing ; but he was so opposite to my way 
of thinking that I generally laughed when he felt 
I should applaud. Only on one point did I most 
cordially agree with him ; he is a Catalan of the 
most intense type, and deplores the vandalism 
which is destroying the older parts of Barcelona. 
They are knocking down scores of acres of lovely 
old houses, destroying for ever the quaintest of 
historic high- and by-ways; and all for the sake 
of '' progress." Oh, progress ! What crimes are 
every day committed in thy name ! 

I have been studying Catalan, and am now 
prepared to say that any one who can run off 
'' zig-zag gig- wig hic-cup " two or three times and 



THE POOR THE MOST CONSERVATIVE 191 

not bungle the sentence will soon be at home 
with the Catalans. Fun apart, it is a queer sort 
of language, reminding one of the two voices of 
the Australian bear — the koala — which grunts 
when sending out love-signals and makes piping, 
shrieking, child-like cries when in danger. The 
latter are appropriate enough, but when one 
knows the two voices one feels they would be 
more effective reversed. Also the Catalan. Forty 
times I thought the folk angry with me, so wild 
and torrential has been their speech, when I was 
indeed the happy recipient of their best compli- 
ments ; but when I have overstepped some un- 
seen line of etiquette, ignored the baby, or for- 
gotten to stand cigarettes round the table, I have 
had to listen to a rather flat and bantering kind 
of chant. There may be some method in this, for 
most of us can find the left-handed compliment 
and mock gracious word when we feel we have 
been injured or '* done." 

Catalunia constantly reminds one that it is the 
poor who supply the conservative element in 
human life. These people have an almost spiteful 
pride in the possession of their quaint tongue, and 
make pariahs of such of their own who are too lazy 
to acquire and speak it. We have little reliable 
data as to the language of heaven or any other 
future asylum, but if languages are passed on and 
the world's souls meet in common, there will be 
some interesting moments in listening to and 
learning Catalan. We have heard of the Irish 



192 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES 

signboard, '' If you can't read this, inquire at the 
cabin on the left/' When I cannot read Catalan 
they tell me, with charming frankness, that there 
is " something wrong with my education." 

Another word or two about the conservatism of 
poor people ; they are never the iconoclasts. For 
if they do at times form the mob, and sack, smash, 
burn a city, they immediately set to work to 
fashion and carry it on in the same old way. And 
what they specially like at home, in their stomach, 
on their backs, is what their mothers nursed them 
to and made them love as indispensable parts of 
themselves. He who changes his cook often can 
be no conservative. He who has money buys 
variety. He who reads and reforms, sheds some 
of his early faith. He who travels, learns to for- 
get, and lives in company with the world that is 
near at hand. And he who helps to make the 
laws is the same who is bent on change ; and as 
all elements sooner or later fall into their natural 
positions, it is for the poor and the fixed com- 
munities to fight for the preservation of things 
old, the things which in the enforcement of what 
may be termed the law of enterprise or progress 
are always in danger of being overwhelmed. 

We do not seek for '' links " in large cities, but 
in the smallest and most isolated of towns and 
villages. Nor do we find any upstart language or 
community so full of humanity and soul-sustaining 
employments as are those of what we term primi- 
tive places. It is in this conservatism — this pre- 



AWAY WITH THE REFORMERS 193 

servation of the old — that all charm is found. The 
societies inquiring into folk-lore and ancient 
custom usually make a semi-private hobby of 
their tasks, and leave the crowd no nearer to 
forming an estimate of what is within their grasp. 

If hell is a reality I hope it may be filled with 
Reformers ! They have a right to their share of 
life, but by some slip of nature's pen they have 
too often been legalised to spoil their respective 
bits of world. It is all very well to clean the town 
— if it can be done — but ruin seize those who 
would bring it ^'up-to-date/' and worse than 
ruin come to those who would clean the country 
also ! We must all come to an age and way 
of reasoning when there is comfort in saying 
'' Let be." If youth were not busy it would 
be bad, and as the world's most active workers 
are among the young we can see no wisdom 
in preaching idleness or indifference. What 
should be aimed at and secured, if possible, is an 
ennobling and a pleasurable task. We cannot say 
that all our labour is necessary, or reasonable, or 
honourable. Some is disgusting, much is mislead- 
ing, much more is a nightmare. Some tasks are 
dangerous in a mean sense, others leave neither a 
sound body nor the means to reason, nor anything 
like the possession of a human and a private soul, 
which we must have if we are to live. 

It is easy to comprehend the comparatively 
small set of figures — sixteen hundred millions — 
roughly the world's population, and to assume 



194 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES 

that, as we know the manner of their distribution, 
we may at a pen-stroke, or hand-stroke, or sabre- 
stroke, in the voice of a nation make them all hear, 
act, and change, even to their very skins. Many 
do not believe this, but the point is that many 
more millions do, and did they not so believe, 
there would soon be the devil to pay, and, in a 
word, pandemonium. 

So it is ignorance, absolute, widespread, and 
ineradicable ignorance which keeps the civilised 
world going and in a state of balance. It believes 
it can change and work wonders, which it does, in 
the way of change. But that is unimportant. 
Nothing is important which man may do. It may 
be necessary for the moment ; at the next a new 
necessity will arise. Consider what any reform 
has ever done ? Never has there been one which 
did not increase human misery. You cannot alter 
a people's course, or even tell them they are wrong, 
and make them happy. You cannot so much as 
increase the supply of human food and reduce the 
cost of it without inflicting an increase of human 
suffering. It must always be one section at the 
expense of another ; for the various peoples of 
the world are every moment of time engaged in a 
bitter and destructive war. Intelligence makes 
for mastery, and what shall be said of the majority 
who are servants ? 

And the many voices, and stars to be followed ? 
Born of the many distinct sets of elements, nursed 
by their several mothers, taught to labour and 



THE SUM OF OUR POWERS 195 

fight by their several fathers; each by his own sooth- 
sayer, wizard, and prophet, what can each be but 
an opponent of the other ? And the Reformer is 
bent on blending these ! We have had no Re- 
formers who looked back. They have always made 
it their boast that they look forward, even though 
the future can never be theirs. It is as dead and 
impossible to them as the past, for no man may 
stretch his hand as far as to-morrow. Looking 
back, we may see that the Reformer and his 
Reform was another foundation, and no more. 
We do not build, we make no more than plans, 
and can arrange no compact with Time. The 
world within our grasp is composed of two sets 
of material — the face of the world at the moment 
in which we live, and ourselves — what we think 
about, hope for, and accomplish in the way of in- 
fluencing the minds of our fellows, and bringing 
about more or less altered conditions of life on the 
face of the earth. 

These comprehend the absolute sum of our 
powers. We do not increase, improve, or streng- 
then, or in any way provide for the race, by our 
building, husbanding, and conspiring one with 
another. And ''if we look back with pride," as 
we so often do, it is usually to some hopelessly 
vulgar and unnecessary, or intensely cruel wrong 
which won our ancestors a victory, or gave the 
spoils of a defenceless people to a plundering and 
ignoble horde. No, the only pure and truly 
satisfying memories are those of childhood. If 



196 VAGABOXD DISCOVERIES 

we dreamed in ignorance we also thought no ill. 
Life welled up out of clean minds and warm^ earth- 
lo\dng hearts. Our hands had touched nothing 
\ile, and our desires were for unselfish servdce in the 
clear, bright light of day. Given that awful thing 
" education/' and we began to detect faults in 
ourselves and the world. And the world retaliated 
by finding fault with us ; so we got drawn into 
battle, and have gone on WTangHng, scheming, and 
fighting to save our ^^possessions," and have 
set aside the gentle voice of our souls which 
in the night-watches so often hath said, "' Do not 
forget me. Do not leave me out of your calcula- 
tions ! Tr\' and remember what you are living 
for ! " But \\ith the morning we forgot again, 
and went to hell headlong ; God knows to what 
end ! Lame, blind, blundering fools ; that is what 
most of us are, lost in a crowd as blind and blunder- 
ing as ourselves, and possessed of the insane belief 
that it is only by knocking down and building 
afresh, struggling against, and taking parcels of 
brainless material from each other, that we can 
come to decent living ! 

Will it ever be possible for us to see that our 
whole scheme, and the faults of it, are the direct 
outcome of our false conception of labour, and the 
greed, vanity, and fear of our miserably incom- 
plete selves ? Shall we ever come to see and be 
strong enough to make the great Reform — to be 
able to say and to prove that life may be lived 
for the splendid sensations it can provide, free 



THE TRUE REFORM 197 

from any mad presumptuous belief that the future 
— that impossible hiatus — is the goal to be striven 
for, rather than the actuality — the means of life 
which exists in this to-day ? 



CHAPTER XV 

AT THE DEEP ARCHES 

NO matter by what road one approaches it, 
Barcelona strikes one as unlike the rest of 
Spain. Few countries hold more variety in the 
character of their cities and people, yet there are 
some things common and familiar about them all. 
The most impressive feature of Barcelona is its 
newness — a modern, squarely-planned, spacious, 
and Haussmannised city. Happily, some of the 
old place remains, and this is so strong and ap- 
pealing that one must hope its silent claims will 
be respected. 

Modern Barcelona is truly splendid. One ad- 
mires the architect's broad and all-providing plan 
— ^it is generous in scope ; there is no sign of any 
fly in the ointment, though it is in part mal- 
odorous. The radiating streets nm out to catch 
the most effective and impressive of hills, and 
the vistas of the streets make perfect pictures, 
stand or walk where one may. The site is beauti- 
ful, has been made the most of, and stands a 
tribute to Spanish intelligence and capacity wher- 
ever it gets a fair chance. There are some mad 
things in houses and public buildings in Barcelona ; 

198 



A PLEA FOR BARCELONA 199 

but she must long remain the queen of Spanish 
cities. One cannot take it, all in all, without 
discerning that Barcelona possesses a fine soul, 
Its splendid squares, its miles on miles of great 
avenued streets ; its sombre older parts — strong 
as steel to the eye — ^its arched passages and wind- 
ing alleys ; its great markets ; its industrious 
hives of trade in infinite variety ; its institutions 
and places of amusement ; its parks, drives, and 
gardens ; its statues and other memorials to Cata- 
lunian story and Catalunian men ; the hundreds 
of cafes where the draught sobers and sustains, all 
that bespeaks strong, full life ; — no beggars ; no 
sign of awful poverty ; no awful vice ; no lazy 
hordes ; no rapacious greed ; no cruelty ; no 
utter weariness — but a busy and a natural way 
of life, where there appears to be enough for all, 
and it is impossible that this should be the out- 
come of a degenerate or unworthy people. 

I made it my business to go through all the poor 
parts of Barcelona, and to discover nothing un- 
sightly or half so bad as would be found in any 
English-speaking town with one-quarter the popu- 
lation. Poor folk must present squalid pictures 
the world over ; hunger and lust must display a 
more or less ugly face ; but we do wrong in sup- 
posing that Barcelona is a sink of iniquity or a 
past-hope sort of place because a few political 
malcontents and anarchists have it for their 
asylum. 

At Barcelonetta I saw the most repellent group 



200 AT THE DEEP ARCHES 

of humanity I have encountered in Spain. This, 
the marine quarter to the north of the city, is given 
up to the poorest class, and to a number of indus- 
tries connected with the sea. Here are hundreds 
of hovels and mere burrows made out of the 
flotsam and jetsam cast ashore. There would be 
nothing dreadful in this if the people were com- 
pelled to observe a few of the domestic decencies. 
But they do not, and it is quite impossible even to 
hint at the animal-like lives shared by the popula- 
tion of this quarter. 

Wanting nothing half-French, or Spanish im- 
proved, I dwelt in a narrow and heavily built 
street, the greater part of which was in perpetual 
shadow, cast by a row of deep arches carrying 
quaint old houses. These were such a pronounced 
feature that I felt an appropriate name for the 
quarter would be '' The Deep Arches," and I had 
no sooner secured a lodging than I found that was 
actually the case. My hostess, Juana, was a bright 
and ready-witted little woman, and so cynical as 
to give every one a nickname. One of the lodgers 
was a prim, stumpy woman from Gerona ; Juana 
regularly called her '' La Trok "; and although I 
never knew what it meant, it expressed the prim, 
waddling little Geronese to the life. 

The northern Spaniards know nothing of Leviti- 
cus, and have a habit of handling food-stuffs after 
it is supposed to have passed to the sacred posses- 
sion of one. My neighbour at table is a great 
politician, that is, when not engaged in business. 



THE STAFF OF LIFE 201 

He is an india-rubber stamp merchant, and con- 
ducts a portable establishment propped against 
one of the walls within the shadow of the deep 
arches. At home he is most obliging and anxious 
to inform me of the state of politics, and in doing 
so twice a day wields a power just as big as my 
bit of bread. It is always a big bit, but he gets all 
over it just the same, and I feel he has somehow 
got his hands inside it before I can get it inside 
myself. Catalan loaves are exactly like three- 
cornered hats, with slashes made in the dough at 
the corners, so that they present the most natural 
of curled brims. Juana cuts long slices with a bit 
of the hard brim to each, and it looks very like a 
series of hatchets with hammer-heads which she 
lays round the table. I do not find them instru- 
ments of war, but my political friend does, and he 
has a regular habit of breaking up his own slice 
and then seizing mine as a threatening weapon, 
which he will use unless the Government alters 
the condition of the country, and that mighty 
soon ! One day I put my bit of bread on the other 
side, and Juana picked it up and slapped it down 
again in its former place, fixing me with a com- 
manding eye which said as plain as day, '' You 
alter my plans, if you dare.'' 

At one of our arches sits an exceedingly pretty 
girl of eighteen. Did I not know truly, I should say 
she was twenty-five, her face, figure, and bearing 
are so well finished and womanly ; so it was but 
natural that I should establish a smiling acquaint- 



202 AT THE DEEP ARCHES 

ance. She sits in the archway sewing bedticks, 
and her mother has a portable oven and row of 
flesh-pots, for she is a speciaHst in cooking. The 
neighbours take raw materials to her, or say what 
they want, give her the money, and she prepares 
the required meal. As a neighbour my custom had 
been sought. One day, Angelita's mother (I have 
no idea what the girl's name may be, but Ange- 
lita would suit her well, for she has a cherub's 
face), well, her mother barred my way by holding 
out a giant egg-cup or little red clay bowl on a 
long stem and foot-piece, and in this bowl was a 
most forlorn little custard with one phlegmatic 
eye of a bit of green pistachio nut. I had to smile 
at the toothsome morsel, and was prepared to 
swallow it on the spot, when I noticed its face 
well peppered with city or kitchen dust. So I 
declined, and was about to pass on when the good 
woman remarked, '' It was a work of art on all 
sides and extra good in the middle,'' and to prove 
her words she turned the languid thing out on her 
hand ! It was a clean and beautiful hand, but — 
well, somehow ! 

'* Memorialistas," or public letter- writ ers,occupy 
little sentry-boxes in all Spanish towns, and write 
letters for all classes. I remember one in Malaga 
with a sign : 

** Here we write love letters in 
faultless language, and use the 
most exalted and sweetest words. 
Price one halfpenny." 



WET NURSES 203 

Four letter- writers' boxes stand against a wall near 
the deep arches, and it is interesting to watch the 
faces of the correspondents as they give directions 
to the professional scriveners. 

Amongst the daily visitors to our grey old street 
is a herd of small she-asses, snuff-brown and black 
little creatures, with distinctive bells hanging from 
their necks, quaint red cloaks bordered with yellow 
braid along their backs, and red bobs of wool 
worked in the hairy tufts at the tops of their long 
ears. They have also a cone or high rosette of 
red braid stuck on their foreheads, like a little 
hat, which gives them a most rakish and groggy 
appearance ; they seem to sulk under this as they 
mooch along as if saying, '' Isn't it enough to 
mother the whole town without being made into 
guys and proclaimed for the asses that we are ? " 
For these are the milch donkeys — purveyors of 
the most approved fare to delicate babes and 
people of all ages needing nourishing food. 

Nata, the result of fresh and well -whipped 
cows' milk, is the stock food for weakly children 
in north-eastern Spain. It is a pure white spume, 
reminding one of the frothy crown of a custard. 
The Spaniards mix the nata with cinnamon, lemon, 
and a little fine sugar, so that it has a rare delicate 
flavour ; it is sold at milk-shops, on broad green 
leaves, which are pinched up when offered to the 
customer in a truly Oriental style. 

Whilst living at the deep arches I received this 
letter : — 



204 AT THE DEEP ARCHES 

" Murcia, 7th May, 1909. 

'' Appreciable Sir Carlos, 

*' I have received your letter of the 5th, 
and my answer must be, I am surprised you did 
not reply to that which I sent to Valencia. 

'' I am completely abandoned ! Pepe Mula — 
whom you know was my friend [the actor Manuela 
sought in Cartagena] — ^has gone to Oran and has 
married an actress of the company. I have not 
paid Manuela, and thanks to her I have not died 
of hunger, but that is because I do not wish to be a 
bad woman. With the money I would have joined 
you at Valencia, and that would have been 
pleasant, but now, as I find myself abandoned, I 
pass the days crying and consoled only by Doiia 
Manuela, who does what she can for me. 

'' I have received all your letters, and those 
which I send you are written by a confidant friend, 
as my writing is bad. 

'' About love I do not say a word ; that would 
be better expressed by your side. You say in your 
letter you wish to give to me and not to Manuela, 
and I repeat if you have such good intentions to- 
wards me, if it is true you regard me with such 
good sentiments, please do something for me, who 
loves you and would be with you. Affection is 
shown by good actions, and I hope you will prove 
the same. It is not my desire to deceive you, and 
I ask nothing. You may send me whatever you 
will to relieve my sad situation, for which I w^ould 
be very grateful ; and at the same time you will 
tell me what I ought to do. I am^at your dis- 
posal. 

'' If you send me help I will be most grateful, 
and will ever preserve the memory of your good 
action. ... I love you, and it would be much to 
me to receive the favour which in all your letters 



THE LAST OF DON ANISETO 205 

you have promised me, and which I accept. I 
repeat that I receive your letters, and my rephes 
are written by a friend of mine. 

'' I do not go out as I am shoeless. As I am on 
the ground floor I personally receive your letters, 
and to answer you I send for my friend. If you 
have faith and affection send according to your 
bounty and good heart. I would not be able to 
cash it, as I have no cedula (the flourish after the 
signature which is always necessary), so send it in 
the name of Dn. Aniceto Lucio (!) as he will cash 
and pay it to me. I plead with you to send me 
help, and my love will be yours for ever. Don 
Aniceto and Da. Manuela send their regards. 

'' Receive my affection from this one, who loves 
you, and take you this — x 

'' RosARio Sanchez.'' 

This was so obviously the work of Don Aniseto 
and his sposa Manuela, and here the reader may 
observe the misspelling of his name, that I wrote 
and told him he was a rascal — perhaps I said more. 
Anyhow, it was enough, for I never heard again. 



CHAPTER XVI 

A GREAT SHRINE 

ARMED with the bald facts that Montserrat 
^ is one of the great shrines of the world ; 
that it dates from early in the eighth century, and 
that it has ever since been piling up religious, 
political, and military history ; that it has been 
a place of pilgrimage for scores of millions of 
solitary seekers after grace, and that down to this 
living present over 100,000 souls journey to the 
sacred mountain every year — these facts alone 
make me anxious to come more directly under its 
spell. The jagged mountain — as its name implies, 
rises about forty miles from the coast of Catalunia, 
an offshoot of the Eastern Pyrenees. Leaving 
Barcelona, a business-like train rushes through 
market-gardens and farms, skirts rivers and leaps 
them, trips by meadows and climbs or curves 
round bare and wooded slopes, and then dips again 
into unusually gay fields — poppy in the corn, may 
on the thorn by the stream side. Breadths of lilac- 
flowered lupins and vaster breadths of blue borage 
and purple veitch make the landscape sing almost 
aloud of the joys of spring, and the presence of the 
vine helps to the spirit of conviviality which reigns 



A JOURNEY HEAVENWARDS 207 

in the air. Then we pass through dull red and 
churlish hills, where nothing more profitable than 
yellow broom and wild thyme have a home ; next 
a tunnel or two, a glimpse of higher ground, a 
broad green river, an altered tone in everything, 
a peculiar desire for silence, and the train a sacri- 
lege, and before the feeling can be defined or re- 
fined to any special need, the mountain of Mont- 
serrat breaks upon us, the train stops, and we 
begin to feel small and timid and alone. 

Montserrat is a giant castle of most fantastic, 
bewitching, and impregnable mould. It rises in 
almost perpendicular lines for a little over 4000 
feet, and in such a way that every foot tells. One 
may easily see higher country, but must travel far 
to see anything more impressive. 

It is about twenty-four miles round the base of 
this mass of sculptured, and at a distance bare, 
stone, and the monastery shows out on a precipi- 
tous ledge, about half-way up the fort-like walls. 
The air is beautifully light, and our first and last 
worldly thought here is occasioned when about 
five shillings is demanded for a seat on the tiny 
railway train which runs to the hospice. 

There is a good, though frightfully steep road, 
and we think we might walk and save the five 
shillings, but are soon glad to have escaped the 
fatigue and to be able to sit in the train at ease and 
enjoy the splendid scenery which breaks into new 
glories at every turn of the zigzag way. We were 
nearly two hours in climbing to the hospice — it is 



2o8 A GREAT SHRINE 

a little over five miles — all the time growing more 
timid and shy — a feeling impossible to explain, for 
its like had never been ours before ; and it was 
noticeable that, excepting a few young and local 
people, the other travellers were equally silent and 
compelled to mute admiration. The train bore us 
to the very gate of the monastery, and by this 
time some opinions had been formed. 

Our first thoughts were of the wisdom of the 
fathers — those early saints, or tired, or far-seeing 
souls, who wanted the best in a quiet way. This 
shrine is literally a natural beauty and wonder spot, 
invested with a few splendid superstitions and 
much holy faith. As a place, it possesses a kind 
of personality. It is nature visible and audible 
and therefore it is very easy, since it is true, to 
say that here one may listen to the voice of God. 
Whatever appeals to, fills and delights the soul 
within us forbids all further reason, and, coming 
to a natural sanctuary like this, we are able at 
once to put off all fear, concern, and longing, and 
grow calm in the trust that we are at last at home. 
We had these thoughts as we climbed up and up, 
and somehow the blustering and sweltering engine 
seemed nothing less than an instrument of God to 
relieve long-tired feet, and bring us nearer to the 
goal of our hopes. 

The hospice is really a small village, composed 
of a dozen or more hospital-like buildings for the 
accommodation of the Benedictine brotherhood 
and the everlasting stream of pilgrims. Over looo 



HOME AT LAST 209 

cells, containing 2500 beds, exist for the public 
alone, and, though we arrive at a dull season of the 
year, we have the pilgrim at the gate saying, with 
Christina Rossetti : 

Will there be beds for all who seek ? 

to be relieved by the smile of a youth, who, with 
familiar eyes, replies : 

Yes. Beds for all who come. 

And so it proves. Thus far no sign of priest or 
brother, or anything monastic or ecclesiastic. A 
few mute attendants at the little rail platform — or, 
if not mute, their only words to voice the way to 
the booking office, where we ask admission, have 
our names and addresses entered, and are given 
the key of a cell. A youth in peasant costume gets 
bed-linen and a tiny towel for each, arranges 
the beds, tells us to read the rules, and then dis- 
appears. The rules are few and easily observed. 
We are forbidden to throw anything from, or even 
hang anything in, the windows, as the fall is often 
so great that a little thing would easily kill any one 
walking below. Another rule says we must shift 
entirely for ourselves, and keep the cell clean 
and tidy. Next, we are to give two hours' notice 
before leaving ; and the last rule is a plea that we 
will offer no reward of any kind to the resident 
population of Montserrat. At the first glance from 
the window we were inclined to be dissatisfied 
with our cell — it did not command the best aspect 



2IO A GREAT SHRIXE 

for \ie\\ing the valley — but like a native thought 
came the words : 

N'Uns fret not at their convent's narrow room. 

And hermits are contented with their cells. 

And in truth we should have been. Our cell is 
a simply furnished bedroom. Its actual contents 
are two small iron bedsteads, with ample and per- 
fectly clean clothing ; a strip of matting on the 
floor, two rush-seated chairs, a small deal table, 
with a drawer ; a fairly large wall mirror, a light 
iron washstand and set of ware in sheet iron, 
painted white ; a flat brass candlestick, a clay 
pitcher for drinking-water, a small iron hat-rack, 
and a running curtain to screen off the portion 
occupied by the beds. The floor is of large, pale 
red bricks ; the walls whitewashed, and the win- 
dow is of the French t\T)e, and runs from floor to 
ceiling. 

The ceUs var\" a good deal in size and the amount 
of hght they admit, the most modem buildings 
providing ceUs with greater comfort ; but all are 
comparatively roomy — twelve to fourteen feet 
each way — and the furnishing is \Trtually the same 
for all. I have described the cell with some detail 
for the benefit of those who may be curious of the 
accommodation afforded at a popular shrine. 

Before we lost interest in the cleanliness and 
comparative comfort of the ceU, we had growTi to 
discover a world of beauty in the wall of rock rising 
in front. The mountain rises like a heavenlv stair 



A PLACE OF PURIFICATION 211 

— a 1000 or 1200 feet of magnificent shafts of 
detached stone, each tall and broad enough to 
furnish a church steeple. We wished to see down 
the valley, but soon the inclination was to look up 
and be humbled. Humility does not preserve a 
bowed head in this place. We had it as we entered, 
but as the heart becomes fortified with the clear 
light air, the eyes open to discern new qualities in 
the light above. Our cell in order, we went forth 
to buy bread, wine, and a taper. There is a 
restaurant for those who do not care to buy and 
prepare food in their cells, but the vast majority 
go to a store, where all kinds of food and drink 
may be purchased, and the prices are very low. A 
large pound of bread costs twopence, and a full 
bottle of wine twopence -halfpenny. Although 
everything is so silent and free from restraint, the 
appetite does not grow here. All are in some way 
impressed with the broad fact that this is a place 
where the body is of little account. All the water 
used is direct from the rock, and although cold to 
iciness, it is positively sustaining. 

We have a subtle desire for greater personal 
cleanliness, and though the air is chilly to raw cold, 
clothing is almost an abomination. The hands 
appear a size smaller, and gain in sensibility, for 
they are constantly grasping at friendly shrubs by 
the precipitous paths, and in some unusual way 
telling us that these are our friends, so that we 
come to a fuller understanding of what is about 
and above us, and then, lo ! a sense of the sun in 



212 A GREAT SHRINE 

our faces, and there is neither desire nor weari- 
ness, nor heartache, nor any longing, nor that 
state of reasoning which is pain. Perhaps these 
phantom-like and yet wondrously substantial hills 
have wrought this change in us ; perhaps it is the 
feeling that we have escaped the world, or it may 
be memory, roused by the presence of so many 
familiar flowers and shrubs which grow upon the 
crags and within the glades. The mountain, 
flowers, odours, dreams, one or all together, have 
found us, and we say again, for the words ring like 
a dirge or possess the fascination of a new tune, 
*' The wisdom of the fathers ! The wisdom of the 
fathers ! '' For it is they who have led the millions 
hither. 

From our cell we may look out on a hundred 
little natural gardens, hanging with all their grasp- 
ing strength to the ledges and crannies of the 
mountain, and where it is pleasing to reflect that 
no mortal foot has ever rested or ever will rest 
till there is an earthquake, when, of course, they 
will not be the same gardens. When we come to 
close quarters with Montserrat we pronounce it 
a vast rock garden, wrought by the forces of nature 
in their mightiest strength, designed with won- 
drous skill and planted to instruct, rest, and de- 
light every eye — a garden so vast, intricate, and 
perilous that no one may know it or become sati- 
ated. And then the frame. It is fifty miles deep ! 
Is studded with eighty towns and villages ; illumi- 
nated by shimmering rivers and glittering banks 



THE SOURCES OF A SHRINE 213 

of snow, and lakes of cloud and fields of every hue. 
In fact, it has the world for its frame, and we 
pilgrims are glad to be of the Holy Mountain — 
alone, above, away from it all. But we trust as 
we do look out and down upon what has been our 
world ; and when we have gazed and thought and 
gazed till we can do so no more, we retire to our 
cell to discover that these material things in their 
strength and majesty are the actual sources of a 
shrine. 

We who come here feel that the rocks and the 
very winds which blow about them are preaching 
impressive sermons. We think of the stone wor- 
shippers of all times and climes, and come a step 
nearer to the philosophy of all religions. But we 
are not led to pursue any fatiguing thought, for 
the mountain leads, and even the human story 
and human handiwork about are ever restful and 
final in the lessons they teach. Happily there has 
been no attempt to '' beautify " and vilify the 
mountain, and we are always in the presence of 
nature. By the mountain road and principal walks 
there are many crosses and pieces of statuary, 
and also seats and fonts where sacred and profane 
pilgrim's may rest and slake their thirst. But none 
of these offend ; they are of the Holy Mountain, 
and apart from convenience or beauty or story, 
keep us to the same atmosphere and mood. Just 
above the monastery, tucked away under pro- 
jecting rocks and boulders, are many graves, but 
so small they could never have held complete 



214 A GREAT SHRINE 

bodies. They are probably urns holding the bones 
of such hermits or pilgrims as were found exposed 
on the mountain. 

Far away on the wildest heights, and amid the 
crannies of gorges, the hermit holes are, many of 
them, the merest troughs, and men who lived and 
died in these were often sealed up in them, so that 
their bodies crumbled on the very spots where they 
had chosen to pass their lives. We may wander for 
days and yet see very little of the mountain and 
its numerous ancient habitations. 

The '' ermitas " are everywhere, many of 
them in such dangerous positions that we are 
thrilled, scared, and fascinated by the daring and 
aloofness of those early Christians who elected to 
climb and contrive and dwell in them. These were 
the only spots rendering men proof against the 
temptations of the world ; they were strongholds 
against the devil and the wrath of God ; they 
dclied infidels in arms, and were often the hiding- 
places of church treasure during periods of unrest 
or plunder or war. That men did and could live 
in these places century after century is one of the 
marvels of human life and human story. Even 
in the presence of the obvious we are inclined to 
deny that these slabs and vertical walls and jutting 
crags could ever be scaled and held by man. To- 
day there are no traces of the means of ascent and 
descent, but there must have been rope ladders or 
lashed spars or light timber, or bundles of faggots 
hung against the cliffs, most probably some con- 



THE HERMIT'S LOT :215 

trivance which could be drawn up and let down 
at will. 

And to live in such spots ! The airiness and the 
eerieness ! The stern cold challenge of the ele- 
ments over every movement of time ! The utter 
silence, except the voice of the wind and the driven 
rain. The ever present danger of the rocks slipping 
from above, or slipping from below, and they do 
slip at comparatively short intervals ; and the 
limitations of the hermit's domain ! They were 
often as much bound and cramped and frozen as 
mariners lashed to the look-out in Arctic seas ; or 
between the floor and the rock roof above they 
passed their years in a stoop for want of room to 
stand upright ! 

Much of the stone is of flint-like hardness, and 
we see where, with small hand tools, they literally 
scratched their way into safe hiding and secret 
dwelling-places. And the men who did these things 
had often taken part in the great affairs of nations. 
They w^ere of varied scholarship, and of all stations 
and estate. As hermits, they had neither soil nor 
water at hand ; no certain draught or a solitary 
plant for refreshment, or study, or delight. They 
ignored the companionship of cats and dogs, and 
they believed so far in liberty as not to encage a 
bird. 

Security and privacy they claimed by divine 
right, they aimed to possess no more. They saw 
the sun first in the morning, but its life-giving 
rays were not for them. They saw the clouds 



2i6 A GREAT SHRINE 

make green the low valleys and the rippling hills, 
but they thought not of har\'est5 and dry baxns. 
They saw the long hot summers parch the plains 
into deserts, but no sound of povert^^ or pain rose 
up unto them. From their ledges of rock they saw 
the clouds gather and descend like armies to war, 
and mingle and disappear in the earth below. The 
lightning's flash and the re-echoing thunder from a 
hundred cavernous walls awoke no fears in them. 
Their business was above the affairs of earth ; their 
only concern for the souls of men. Down the 
mount a i" ::r a scrap of food, for water, and a 
stick ::r ^ -re. Down the moimtain for flat stones 
or round stones, as they desired to build the wall 
or lay the floor. Down the mountain to tell of the 
heavenly Hghts they had seen, and the voices they 
had heard, the hghts and the voices which we may 
see and hear to-day. Down the mountain to re- 
joice with a great company that the mountain 
should be found holy. Down the mountain to gird 
on the sword, and bless those who would march 
against the Saracen in the East. Down the moun- 
tain to discover and cover the corse of brother 
Benedict. Down the mountain to proclaim the 
cross triumphant over the crescent in Spain. 
Do^Ti the mountain for a root of the medicine 
plant — ^the aloe — ^which brother Juan Bautista 
had brought from the new world. Down the 
mountain to see Ignatius Loyola dedicate his 
sword and his life to God's service. Up and dovra 
the mountain for nigh 1200 years, and when these 



AN AWFUL SITUATION 217 

exercises failed another hack and scratch at the 
rock, another stone this way or that, another last 
home prepared, another lonely death, and then no 
more. 

Sitting in the midst of this fastness we feel that 
if the lives of these old hermits were- not in all ways 
lofty and splendid, there is yet something about 
them which holds us to their haunts with the grip 
of a warm fire on a raw night in winter. We de- 
voted one day to the hermitage of San Juan — 
gaining it by a modern stair cut in the rock — 
which is one of the most marvellous of human 
dwelling-places. It lies on the side of a bare mass 
of rock four thousand feet above the sea, exposed 
raw, and storm-swept at all seasons. A rent to one 
side has left a jutting wall many hundreds of feet 
high, and running across this face of iron-hard 
stone is a band of red sandstone from two to three 
feet wide. In the eighth or ninth century this 
band of soft stone was gained by descending a 
crevice, then the hermit scratched and scraped 
and formed a track round a terribly overhanging 
mountain of rock. Then he worked in and in, and 
made man-holes at intervals, and doubtless hung 
a wood rail to save himself from falling into the 
valley below. As the years went by the hard stone 
above the sand was attacked, and to-day we may 
in places stand upright, whilst in others we crawl 
on all-fours and tremble violently all the time, for 
the wooden rail seems nothing against our weight, 
and if we should lean against it or slip ! 



2i8 A GREAT SHRINE 

So overborne were we by the frightful strain of 
gaining the end of this hermit's lair that we lay 
in the last semi-dark stone trough, as cold and un- 
canny as a tomb, and there gave ourselves up to 
wonder and to dreams. 

Friar Juan Gari, who fashioned this retreat, and 
is the first historic character in the story of 
Montserrat, converted us to his way of thinking, 
so that as we lay we saw the mission and the in- 
fluence of the generations of hermits. The friar 
himself, speaking quite audibly, said this unto us : 
'' We took no pride in sitting in semi-darkness 
among these rocks. We did not enjoy solitude, 
but we discerned a task which enjoined it. You 
cannot have bad men in isolation. Remember that. 
It is the crowd which provides the painful sins. 
We had heard of Christ, and it was our duty to let 
others know of Him. Not of the bad, but of the 
good brotherhood, let us speak — those who gave 
Christ to Europe. He is not an Asiatic, but a Euro- 
pean liberator and standard of right living. Here in 
this cell more than a thousand years ago I said — 
enough of your concerns which are of no concern, 
enough of your fears which are all for yourselves ; 
enough of happiness which is without reason. I 
will accept none of your worldly hopes. I will see 
you only as worms in a perishing furrow, in a 
world so unstable that ye never can grasp a thing 
and call it blessing. And without this what is any- 
thing to us ? Come not with me and abide in this 
mountain : come not with me to the ascetic and 



THE ROMANCE OF CHRISTIANITY 219 

austere life. I would deny ye no splendid thing. 
And looking back, do ye not see that we gave ye 
understanding ! We starved for ye ; went into 
the deserts and the lonely places for ye ; we denied 
ourselves for ye, and we gave ourselves for ye ; 
we grew to be young-old men that we might come 
by the truth and make it plain for ye ; we saw the 
light, and pursued it ; we wept and slept and 
dreamed and woke to the knowledge of the way 
for ye. This is the story of the pilgrim and the 
hermit, the monk and the monastery. Out of 
these have proceeded the science of religion and 
the science of civilisation, the science of govern- 
ment and the science of the elements. Independent 
of us ! Indeed ! Of no account ? Indeed ! Where- 
on do ye build ? Do ye except a century in the 
incidents of Time ? Do ye accept Christ in the 
scheme of Europe ? Do ye accept the men who 
revealed Him to ye ? Do ye accept history, ac- 
knowledge art and live by the soul of Europe ? And 
do ye discern any beauty or worth in these things 
before we half-naked and ascetic beings came ? 
Be honest. What power gave civilisation to 
Europe ? Was it Christ, and if so, who were His 
ministers ? Turn back to the page and again turn 
back. Don't stop at the point where we grew 
impotent and abominable, but turn back to where 
we were pure and noble. In those days ours was 
the treasure of these everlasting hills. Our faith 
grew out of what we saw as evidence of God. We 
accepted virtue as a necessity, and discerned no 



220 A GREAT SHRINE 

way by which men could be in all things just till 
we had shown self-sacrifice, open-handedness and 
service. And if you would deny that we gave 
much, what will you say we took from the world ? 
Ours was the cold and the lonely way, and to those 
who can or ever will think, shall we say more ? . . ." 

When we got home that night there was no one 
to welcome us, nor any one to whom we felt we 
should tell of what we had seen and heard, for all 
are in the same way possessed and informed. The 
mountain and its story is everything, and the 
monastery grows to be a mere convenience. True, 
there is a lovely chapel, and where the services are 
so devotional that it is a delight to kneel through 
vespers extending over two hours. Two choirs, 
one of monks in a high gallery and another of 
thirty gowned and surpliced boys, sing heavenly 
music whilst standing through all the two hours 
behind a screen, and when at last they kneel round 
the quiet and unmistakably good priest on the 
floor of the high chapel, we feel that God's blessing 
has indeed fallen upon the world. 

The whole area of Montserrat is less than ten 
acres, and nearly all is built over, so that there 
is but little garden space, and small chance to 
walk in the evening, since the low walls are not 
sufficient to save one from tumbling into space 
to certain death. Still, no one can be bored here. 
The days are so enthralling, for every one climbs 
and wanders from morn till night, and after vespers 
all are ready for bed. 



MONASTIC EMPLOYMENTS 221 

The monastic day is very simple. About seventy 
monks make a study of church music, for which 
the monastery is celebrated. There is also a school 
of music for youths who are to enter the church. 
A most spiritual priest conducts the public services, 
and the whole institution is presided over by an 
abbot. 

We pilgrims are expected to leave a few shillings 
in reward for the cell and the linen used, and it is 
from these freewill offerings that the great estab- 
lishment is maintained. Visitors are not supposed 
to stay more than three days, but we stayed a 
week, and were told we might stay until the crowd 
began to press in for the summer. Montserrat is 
in one respect a sanatorium. Large numbers of 
priests and lay brothers who cannot afford a 
holiday at great expense, come here owing to its 
rare climate and inexpensive mode of life. It is 
also a favourite place for poor brides and grooms. 
For a hundred miles around the peasant maid 
holds it as an article of faith that her marriage will 
be blest if she can pass the closing days of her 
honeymoon at Montserrat. 

The pilgrims are from every land, but they have 
ceased to travel hither in anything like picturesque 
or weary pilgrim garb. Every morning about a 
score of peasant women and girls trudge up the 
mountain road, accompanied by donkeys or mules 
laden with fresh vegetables and fruits, and these 
they spread on either side of the path we take 
to morning service. The comestibles make a kind 



222 A GREAT SHRINE 

of harvest festival display, and fill us with the spirit 
of thanksgiving. The special attraction for pil- 
grims is the honey these women offer. It is just 
ordinary honey to the eye, but it possesses a 
strangely wild and yet familiar aromatic per- 
fume, a combination of gorse and broom and wild 
thyme. 

Our week is at an end. It has gone like a flash, 
and yet it has been a leisurely life through twelve 
centuries. We leave in the same silent way that 
we approach, which is most befitting, for we know 
we have somehow touched the highest, and that 
we are passing for ever from what is in very truth 
a great shrine. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE CRADLE OF THE CID 

COMING to Burgos in the spring of the year 
it almost takes one's breath away, so gener- 
ous and storied and sweet is everything in sight. 
The Burgalese are the Scots of the Peninsula — 
a sturdy, big, and silent yeoman class — and all 
they do makes for effect and sober strength. They 
are blessed with a comparatively rich piece of land, 
a rare climate, and the face of the landscape is so 
moulded that it is everywhere beautiful. Then 
history preserves her links here, and there is a 
sense of wealth in all around. I had not been here 
many hours before I had written : '' I don't care 
who is King of Spain so long as I can remain a 
citizen of Burgos." In many places we are 
charmed by pictures of poverty, but, after all, 
there is more to sustain in looking on a well- 
dressed and healthy crowd. Burgos is blessed ! It 
provides work for all its sons, and there is no vulgar 
ambition ; no awful longings or hopeless pains ; 
no '' Incurable deep ills," as Heine wrote ; nor 
any lack of splendid things in nature and art. 
History, story, employment, a fair land, and the 
joy of being — these are all obtainable in Burgos. 

223 



224 THE CRADLE OF THE CID 

At our fonda we were talking of the lot of the 
different groups of Spain, and I urged the larger 
blessings of the peoples of the northern provinces. 
'' I don't know," said a commercial traveller from 
Valencia. '' What are you to call blessing ? There 
is the Galician, who when he has good soil, — more 
than he can use and more money than he can in- 
telligently spend, moons round, an ignorant boor; 
and there are the Levantines, the people on the 
south and east who have a bit of desert for soil, a 
bare rock and the sea to contemplate ; but the sun 
warms them, and they can think and laugh and be 
happy. Which life is best ? " These are the actual 
words of the Spaniard, and knowing him, one can 
make but short comment. Every Spaniard swears 
by his own province, and it is impossible that he 
can be wrong. 

The British traveller is influenced largely by 
trees; and where they are absent, as also trim 
gardens and the scent of flowers, he cannot bring 
himself to feel at home. It is perhaps for this 
reason that Burgos appeals so directly, for though 
the town itself is close-built and verdureless, the 
surrounding country is decked with glorious trees, 
and the river is of all city rivers the most Arcadian 
and satisfying. 

I never knew a river to charm and delight as 
does this Arlanzon. Its course alone is fascinating, 
for it comes in from the east through broad, green 
meads, a number of silver streams, and just above 
the town gathers itself into one wide flow, and 



RIVER, FIELD AND TOWN 225 

then divides again and glides through the town 
under five well-formed and low bridges, then turns 
and goes straight into the arms of the west ; and 
at evening one sees a stream of all colours and 
degrees of glory as the light fails, and the back- 
ground of cloud and sky and setting sun play and 
blend and enfold each other. Up the stream it is 
the same, for the morning light appears to rise 
out of the streaks of silver, and the tall, straight 
trees stand wrapped in silent praise, as if placed 
there for no other purpose than to salute the morn. 
And the bed of the river within the town ! It is a 
bed indeed : a wide and long well-garden, for deep 
walls bound it as it flows past the city ; and flocks 
of pure white sheep, little ponies, and languorous 
cows lie or browse upon the butter-cupped-and- 
daisied fields — for fields exist here, quite long and 
spongy meadows, intersected by streams which in 
spring are white with a little flower formed like 
a buttercup, that rises out of a plant whose 
leaves are kept prone by the running water. The 
king-cups are so tall that the little children can 
scarce be seen above them. 

Then there are long strips of slender flag-iris, 
and stretches of gravel and pure sand where the 
washerwomen and girls gather by the hundred 
and lay out all the colours and garments of Burgos 
on the flowery meads. And though the washing 
is unending, the streams are clean ; no amount of 
soap and clothes seems to make any difference. 
This is due to the hurrying of the river. It falls 

Q 



226 THE CRADLE OF THE CID 

about fifteen feet in its mile passage through the 
town, so no dirt stays to be seen or reahsed. 
Nearly all the trees by the river are tall, straight, 
and deep green poplars, and the bridges are white 
and low and long, in perfect harmony with the 
broad, soft bed. Where the boundary-walls end 
there is a terraced fall and a rapid which gives off 
true music, and the air does not die away until it 
passes under the shadow of a bank of old elms, 
grey willows, and wych-hazel, these relieved by a 
sprig or two of hawthorn, a bush of golden labur- 
num, and a stately horse-chestnut in full flower. 
At the fifth bridge the river runs free and bare of 
trees for some distance, till a clump of trees in 
the eye of the west cast their long shadows and 
bring the play of the waters to an end. 

God preserve my memory, and I can never be 
poor ! I am nearest to perfect happiness when I 
look on scenes like these, and so long as I can recall 
them I shall have enough. I was half inclined to 
go on and rot w^ait for the sunset, for I had seen it 
some nights ago ; but the colours and the peace 
of the world held me to the bridge, where I 
saw most exquisitely perfect scenes. I wish I 
could paint this babbling river going into the arms 
of the red-gold and shimmering west ! Could I 
do so it must surely be called '' Peace." I am 
sitting by a piece of broken wall. Just in front 
the stream runs round a grassy knoll, and about 
thirty little white lambs, and a couple of black 
ones, are gracefully cuddled up for the night. Only 



THE CLOSE OF DAY 227 

one is standing, and he has his chin resting on 
another's head. Is he the sentinel and privileged 
to lean a Httle ? Beyond the lambs the river is a 
shimmer of gold, and many dancing httle suns 
are hovering over it, so that one cannot see clearly 
what is of the earth and what no more than Hght 
and colour. 

= The sun is now tipping a Hne of hills which turn 
the river, and long bright-red beams are shot up 
the stream. The clouds are violet, they are purple, 
and now again they are gold. Many gold and silver- 
rimmed clouds are appearing ; the foreground is 
clear again, and the distance all ablaze. Washer- 
women show at intervals all down the stream. 
There are many figures on the road following the 
open green bank to one side, but all are moving 
slowly as if towards rest, and there is no noise. 
Two yoke of fawn-coloured oxen cross the bridge. 
They have immense head-dresses of lambskin, 
with the wool drawn up Hke sugar-loaves ; they 
pull their load with a pecuhar lilting gait, and the 
driver lilts with them. They raise a httle dust 
on the bridge and I get the smell of it, the only 
link with earth and the toihng world. The stream 
is all silver and violet. Another flock of sheep are 
coming to drink, and cross the stream lower down ; 
the clouds so filmy a while ago are now gathered 
into soHd mountains. The gold grows very soft, 
almost a russet-brown, and the violets and purples 
are fit for robes. The trees are beginning to look 
sullen and sohtary ; the washerwomen are putting 



228 THE CRADLE OF THE CID 

their garments into huge baskets and trudging 
both banks towards me and the town. The only 
colour in the west is a broad burst of smoke- 
stained flame ; all the sky is leaden-grey, every 
leaf is still, the length of the river increases, and 
it begins to have a voice as there is less to see. 
The mountains of cloud are breaking, and the sky 
above and beyond is a soft sea-green. Now it is 
lead-colour, now purple, shot with gold. The 
trees are frowning black patches where they shade 
the river. 

A distant flock of sheep are coming along a green 
strip between the streams, and there is a tinkling 
of tuneful bells. Now there is more dark cloud and 
light colour-spaces in the west ; all the lines are 
horizontal, and there is no movement away there. 
A cold blue-grey is hanging like a misty pall be- 
tween the source of light and the material earth. 
Faint lemon rays appear, greyness spreads, the 
picture narrows on all sides, the flock of lambs are 
huddling closer, and there is a complaining bleat 
or two. The air is quite chilly ! There is nothing 
more to see. It is night at the fifth bridge of 
Burgos ! 

That night I v/as held to thoughts about the Cid, 
for he was born here. Genius or greatness in any 
form is but an accident, yet we like to associate 
our heroes with splendid places, and surely no one 
could desire a finer natal spot than that of Burgos. 
One evening I found myself standing on the site 
of the Cid's home. It is a strip of green lawn 



THE BIRTHPLACE OF THE CID 229 

bounding a road just outside the town. A ceme- 
tery has advanced on the site, and judging from 
the form of the road one imagines that the ceme- 
tery embraces the actual spot of his birth. A low 
monument and two obelisks stand on this green 
strip and hold the legend in Castilian : — 

" On this site stood a house 
wherein was born in the year 
1033, Rodrigo Diaz de Bibar — 
Cid Campeador de Valencia, 
dying there in 1099 and his 
body translated to the Monas- 
tery of San Pedro de Cardena 
near this city. This is to 
record the services of the 
heroic and brilliant son of 
Burgos." 

Erected 1784. 

Carlos III. King." 

I stood here in the warm mellow light of a May 
evening till I thrilled and found myself crying 
and pulling at the weeds growing on the spot — 
chiefly horehound, blind nettles, and low silver 
thistles. I can account for this as I remember he 
provided my first romance. As a tiny boy I read 
his '' Chronicles,'' and though I have little doubt 
he was an unforgiveable rascal, I am indebted to 
him for many delightful thrills and adventures. 
How long and yet how short and unvarying is 
the age of man ! Children are playing round the 
garden of the Cid just as in his time, and a hundred 



230 THE CRADLE OF THE CID 

yards away there are long fleshing-troughs and 
doublet : leathers in the making, and men and bo3^s 
contri\'ing rude garments and accoutrements but 
slightly or not at all different to those of the Cid' s da}'. 

All the bridges are comparatively modern, but 
the stream and the form and employments of the 
land have not altered much during the past thou- 
sand years. So I am happy to stray and moon 
about, gathering pebbles from the river and wild 
flowers in the meads or in the more distant fields. 
Only in such situations may we re-Hve a bit of our 
youth. I felt myself to be in company ^^ith the 
Cid as a child. I gathered wild flowers and 
imagined the world with him ; I chmbed to heights 
of a few feet and surveyed the world ; only the 
child remained to me, and I had no regrets or 
fears that I might be foohsh. So strongly was I 
impressed by the natural beaut}' of Burgos that I 
ignored its art and much of its story. The Cid and 
the river were all in all. The place reeks of mellow 
history, but that was not my concern ; I needed 
no more than the companionship of the Cid as an 
innocent child. 

He was married at the castle which crowns the 
highest hill near the town, and our Eleanor Plan- 
tagenet was married there also, and later, WeUing- 
ton was twice repulsed. But these things are as 
nothing compared \^ith what may be summed up 
as native charms. The bones of the Cid and his 
\^ife are now preserved in a large chest in the 
Town Hall, and there is also a terra-cotta bust of 



BEAUTY AND STRENGTH 231 

him in a straight beard and a high hooked nose. 
He is garbed in a chain-mail cuirass under light 
shoulder-plates of steel. 

The first bar or authentic yard measure of 
Castile is here, hence the word barra — or yard. 
To many the cathedral of Burgos is the gem of 
Spain, and I came under its spell, but too often 
cathedrals, galleries, and busy cities are fatiguing 
rather than sources of sober happiness ; and there 
is so much labour in pursuing those things which 
are chronicled in the guide-books that I have lately 
made it my business to ignore them altogether. 
The hospital Del Rey and Las Huelgas are lovely, 
the one a rest-house for pilgrims, and the other a 
convent for nuns of noble families. 

Every night I walked to the fifth bridge and saw 
the river run on to the west, and the sinking sun 
take charge of it — always a new and an inspiring 
sight. 

The Burgalese, whilst fine-looking and healthy, 
have somewhat irregular features, and though I 
met its crowds at all hours, I saw but one beautiful 
face. Both men and women lack the style and the 
charm generally found in the townspeople of Spain, 
but they are a very happy crowd, and there is 
much freedom amongst the young folk. In 
winter Burgos is very cold^ and many of the houses 
have glass sashes arranged over all their fronts as a 
means of attracting the sun's heat. This gives a 
staring and common appearance to some streets, 
though many buildings are quaint and beautiful. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

ONE hardly likes to believe that money makes 
friends, it is so brutal; yet often one must 
give to the poor to bring out their best, and this is 
generally seen in their gratitude and affection 
when they discern they are noticed for themselves. 

On leaving Burgos I gave a trifle to two servants, 
and they almost embraced me and followed me 
to the last, their faces worth a pound a minute to 
any human soul. 

A rather churlish strip of land divides Burgos 
from Valladolid. Here I was welcomed by a 
tramp riding behind two sturdy hounds attached 
to a good-sized cart. The man was nursing a child, 
whilst a third dog and the tramp's wife were in 
their proper places twenty yards behind. 

Valladolid is more utilitarian than beautiful. It 
occupies an almost dead level, though near to high 
and churlish hills. Its most striking features are 
its old houses and the church and gallery of San 
Gregorio. Philip the Second, husband of our 
Mary, was born here, and Columbus died here in 
a street bearing his name. The house he occupied 
was recently pulled down by nuns, who have 

232 



FADING CHARMS 233 

stuck up a convent on the site. At a museum 
are a large number of beautiful sculptures in wood 
by Berruguete, also a fine lot of ornaments and 
rare marbles, taken from old house fronts, patios, 
and chambers. A house stands where Cervantes 
lived and wrote part of Don Quixote. 

The implements and utensils of this province 
are most primitive. The metal-ware is of good 
design, but the clay vessels are poor. The copper 
puchero — or cooking - pitcher — so common in 
many provinces, is rarely seen in the north-east ; 
and in this central region it is entirely absent. 
Here the name is given to an upright iron loop- 
handled pot, of handsome mould, but incon- 
venient for lifting. In Zaragoza one sees pots 
eighteen inches high, weighing fifteen pounds, 
and with only one small side handle. The vessel 
is virtually an immense drinking-mug. Nowadays 
they are '' founded," or cast, but in Vascongados 
and Navarre they are met with in hand-wrought 
iron. Germany is making faithful imitations of 
them in cast- and sheet-iron and enamelled ware, 
and these are replacing the more interesting native 
articles. 

At Valladolid, where one crosses to the district 
of Rioseco, are some beautifully-worked mural 
stones, employed in paving the slope and forming 
a boundary-wall of the river. These stones are 
from old churches and houses ; for they reveal 
medallions, armorial bearings, and inscriptions in 
Latin and Spanish. The oldest discernible date 



234 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

is 1670 — less than two hundred and fifty years 
ago ! Monuments and rubbish ! Here is rank 
and fame, mortal vanity, and mortal hope ! A 
small canal traverses this province, but water 
carriage is unpopular, and the flood is employed 
chiefly in irrigation. 

A remarkable contrast is observable in the faces 
of the town and country people. Throughout the 
canal and river systems, also away on the dry, open 
lands, the peasantry have plain, stolid, and unin- 
teresting faces ; whilst the town population of 
Valladolid is distinctly handsome, and several 
minor peculiarities are seen. The speech is low 
and moderate in quantity, men do not smoke to 
any extent when in the presence of women, and 
there is an unusual amount of freedom amongst 
young people. 

By the river-side are as many as three hundred 
little wooden boxes arranged on legs standing in 
the water ; these boxes are occupied by the 
lavanderas — washerwomen — as the banks are un- 
safe. The women step out with their bundles of 
linen, squat down and lave it in the running 
stream. I sat for hours and heard no more than 
an occasional remark. In the south and east there 
would have been a deafening chorus of cries, 
chants, and badinage, and my position w^ould 
have been untenable ; in Valladolid I was un- 
noticed. When boats are laid up on the river or 
canal, the decks are covered with a thick coating 
of damp and pulverous earth to prevent the spring- 



TOWN GARDENS 235 

ing and cracking of the wood — a simple and effec- 
tive plan worth imitating elsewhere. 

Valladolid possesses two excellent public gar- 
dens in the '' Campo Grande '* and the '' Magda- 
lena"; they are in the form of natural woodlands 
and shrubberies, and distinctly appropriate to the 
needs of a town population. Moreover, they are 
in the town and accessible. As a nation the 
Spaniards' private gardens are confined to the rich, 
anything like a cottage garden is seen only in the 
extreme north-west ; but as municipal gardeners 
or owners in common they display far more in- 
telligence than do the British ; not only do they 
provide trees and shade, fountains, and an abund- 
ance of flowers, but seats and conveniences, which 
draw the population together at all seasons of the 
year. Of course, climate is an important factor, 
and we observe much needful variety in the public 
gardens of Spain. 

But no matter where, there is more to accom- 
modate, to satisfy, and create a feeling of posses- 
sion in a Spanish town garden than is usually felt 
in any British public domain. Anxious to make 
the most of local business, a kindly old man tells 
me they have a fine lunatic asylum in Valladolid. 
The town has some queer and interesting old 
houses, in one of which I found a lodging. Enter- 
ing by the Campillos, I dined in a room on the 
Calvo, and slept on a plazuela — or little square. 
This is explainable by the house having a roving 
commission to get a look at the daylight wherever 



236 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

it could find an open space. About half a dozen 
women kept this house, they were all old maids or 
widows ; and instead of wearing out their lives in 
solitary chambers, they rented a house of a dozen 
rooms, and lived on those who were brave enough 
to call. As waiting-maids they habitually enjoy 
the possession of pretty names. In Malaga she 
was Philomena ; at Burgos, Esperanza ; here she 
was Candida. That was fortunate, for she was 
very broad, she waddled, and had lost all her 
front teeth, though she had a beautiful smile and 
was just as kind as she looked. When I asked her 
if she was of Valladolid, she gave me the only frown 
I ever saw her wear as she said, "No. I am from 
where the beauties come from — Zamora ! '' 

Valladolid can never be entirely free from dust 
or mud, for the surrounding country, when dry, 
is always getting into the air, and when it rains 
the earth sticks like bird-lime. But I hope this 
statement will do no harm to the population, for 
they are a thrifty and earnest people, and have 
worked wonders on the little good soil they com- 
mand. 

In Spain one never travels without soldiers, and 
the bulk of them are third-class — or rather they 
travel third. From Valladolid I set out for Medina 
del Campo in a cattle-truck sort of train, loaded 
with young soldiers, and it is pleasing to write that 
though we were many hours together, not a rough 
remark or an unkind action was detected. It might 
easily have been otherwise, for we sat or were 



MY FRIEND LANGTON 237 

jammed about four deep ; and what with smoking, 
eating, drinking, and the necessary perspiring and 
spitting there were grounds for strife. 

At Medina del Campo, a dust-laden old town in 
the midst of a vast plain, I went to sleep in a lane 
leading to the castle, and on waking found along- 
side me another tramp, by name Julius Langton ! 
This was a curious fish. He could speak several 
languages, and was a fluent liar in all. Still, he 
was interesting. He had watched me leave the 
little town, and finding me asleep had lain down 
and waited patiently till I should awake to feed 
him. With the intuition of his class he divined my 
nationality at once. His own story, in so far as 
it could be relied on, was brief. His father was an 
Englishman who had visited Portugal, and his 
mother a Portuguese. As a w^aif he had gone to 
sea, next tramped over many lands, learning some- 
thing of each language he encountered. He was 
quite harmless — a real tramp, too lazy to steal or 
be in any way bad. With Langton I went on to 
the ruined castle wherein J nana La Loca — Crazy 
Jane — the wife of Philip La Belle was confined, 
and where her mother, the great Isabel, died. 
This castle remains an impressive ruin, and Lang- 
ton and I sat down to discuss it, and a bottle of 
wine and some bread and cheese which I had 
bought in the town. My tramp friend knew as 
much local history as I wished ; and how vivid 
it all seemed as it dropped out of this unclassified 
human waif. I can hear him now saying, in refer- 



238 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

ence to Juana, " They say she was this, and they 
say she was that, but God do know and was it any 
matter ! She have just one life and she die, and 
then, true or no true, it not matter to her what 
they say." The w^eather was scorching hot ; and 
with our bottle of wine and cool shade we felt 
equal to any kings or queens of the past. I am 
always tempted to descant on the charms of a 
tramp's life, because it is the only sort of existence 
yielding irresponsible freedom ; but I had an 
appointment in Medina, so when I could bleed 
Langton no more I bade him adios. 

At early mxOrning this market-place is a rare 
sight, hundreds of tilted carts and pack animals 
holding all the materials which the population 
require. So pronounced is the custom of buying 
in the market-square, that few shops are seen, and 
these but small and old-fashioned. At a stall in 
the market-place a bright-eyed, dapper little 
woman was offering tiny cheeses of goat's milk. 
A countryman examined one carefully, tucked it 
in his pocket, and put down a real. I thought the 
cheese a bargain, and said to the little woman, 
*' I'll have one," and gave her a peseta, which is 
four reals. She beamed and gave back tw^o reals. 
I remarked, '' The price of the cheese is one real." 
*' Ah," said she with a winning smile, '' but you 
are a caballero." I enjoyed her audacity so much 
as to laugh and say, '' You are a little rogue," and 
she, seeing she had beaten me, curtseyed and 
laughed out, '' Ah, great sehor mine, you are many 



ANY GOD THERE? 239 

times a caballero ! *' I do not complain. Such 
incidents and compliments are cheap at the price. 

At Medina I passed an evening with twenty 
ploughmen, all employed on the same estate, and 
one of them put a question which interested, and 
in some subtle way pleased me more than any 
other inquiry in my life. We had been talking of 
Australia, and its great natural wealth ; the small- 
ness of its population, and such simple facts as I 
felt might interest them ; and when it came to 
my saying in what direction Australia might lie, 
and I pointed to our feet, it was more than they 
could believe. But I went on, and as the wonder 
grew, a stocky, sharp-eyed man of about thirty- 
five, who had listened to hear of everything his 
heart desired, said with tremendous hope in his 
great eyes, '' Is there a God there ? '' 

Think of it, if you can ! This is a text indeed ! 
''Is there a God there?" And in this instance I 
may preach the sermon. My first thought was not 
of what we might call this man's ignorance, for 
only the ignorant can pretend to a knowledge of 
God. What charmed and baffled and held was the 
absolute age and universality of the inquiry. Let 
me describe the situation. It was near midnight, 
and we had gone to see a string of twenty fine 
mules fed for the last time before morning. They 
munched in a long shed which had an open front 
to a yard, where were ploughs and other imple- 
ments on which we sat. A clear and nearly full 
moon rode above, and there was neither a cloud 



240 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

nor a star. The day had been sweltering hot, but 
now it was cold, and every face showed alert and 
concerned under the chilling moonlight. Cayetano, 
one of the ploughmen, put the question, '' Is there 
a God there ? '' My reply may stand for what it is 
worth, for I said, " Different people have different 
Gods, but your God is in all the world." He was 
relieved and pleased at once, as were his com- 
panions, and the whole lot of them immediately 
returned to the mundane ; what Australians lived 
on ? How many meals a day ? Any wine and 
tobacco there ? Very cold ? How much did a 
donkey cost ? Regular work ? The reward of 
labour ? Military service ? And, to omit nothing, 
'' What were the girls like ? and could they marry 
if they wished to ? " I put down these things only 
to make plain the source of the inquiry and the 
limitations and aspirations of the man whence it 
came. '' Is there a God there ? " The words are 
perfect, and in themselves attractive. The ties of 
earth are many, and yet we are never held by, nor 
do we live by, these. It is something more than 
hope springing eternal, for no amount of gain and 
possession can satisfy, and I was intensely inter- 
ested by the desire of that Spanish peasant. 

No ! We need not go to primitive black people 
for our beginnings in faith, for we are all at the 
beginning. We inherit no more than a larger sheaf 
of straws. Our philosophers they come, and they 
vary, and with them our wonderment ; but our 
helplessness, doubts, and fears remain fixed. In 



FAITH AND HOPE 241 

desperation we put questions to ourselves, and 
then set about answering them in ways convenient 
and agreeable to ourselves. We suffer in the hope 
that we may come into greater prominence, get 
nearer to the throne of grace, the peace of heaven, 
and the blessings of God. 

Always blessings ! Always some high power 
who will have compassion on us, recognise and re- 
ward us in ways surpassing any we may get here 
below. Below ! We get much out of that word. 
We are far — far down in the depths of the world, 
and must climb for every good thing. Kings are 
on thrones ; God is on high ; heaven is beyond 
the distant crown of stars ; every bed is possibly 
a last sleeping-place, and a cold sheet our cofhn- 
lid. Most of us have come to dislike white and 
odorous flowers, they take us into deathly com- 
pany ; we reflect on the state of those who have 
gone, and ponder the space beyond our view and 
our ken, and we say in all moods save that of 
gladness, '' Is there a God there ? '' The question 
is fundamental ; it grew up with human reason, 
and can never be supplanted or surpassed. 

No preacher can expound the law, for no man 
knoweth it. Fear is the mother of reason, and 
faith is reason's daughter. Our fears and our 
wants have made us, and our indulgences have 
left us more than ever undone. So with all we 
have aspired to know, we are no nearer to con- 
vincing ourselves of a certain and safe asylum. 
Cayetanos' priest has a faith and knowledge caus- 



242 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS 

ing him to kneel and wear black robes, and avoid 
as many ills and gather as many comforts as he 
can, but in his heart he knows he is a deceiver and 
a sham ; so that, with all his ignorance, Cayetano is 
the better man, in that he asks with more honesty 
and hope, '' Is there a God there ? " 



CHAPTER XIX 

A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

I MUST have a dig on paper at Spanish bread, 
for in this part of the country I cannot get 
my knife into it in any other way. One can afford 
to praise it for being pure, well worked, thoroughly 
cooked, and digestible once it is broken up ; but 
the loaves are so thin, baked so slowly, and to 
such a degree of hardness that they would serve 
for roofing-tiles. And the shapes and sizes ! They 
are beyond count. Once I decided to make 
sketches of the loaves of each province, but soon 
found it impossible, for the baker invents new 
shapes for every batch. 

One advantage in writing of Spanish loaves is, 
I cannot possibly go wrong in any description of 
them ; for taking a lump of dough, from two 
ounces to two pounds, there is not a baker in 
western Spain who does not produce a new shape 
and surface pattern every day of his life ; and, 
more remarkable still, each loaf has a definite and 
attractive shape. One morning I stood before a 
shop and counted over thirty shapes in one and 
two-pound loaves, each flat and platter-like and 
stamped with its weight, maker^s name, parish, 

243 



244 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

and hall-mark of the local authorities. A beauti- 
fully clear die had been used, and the letters and 
surrounding ornamentation stood up as if cut in 
dull brass, for the tops of the loaves have that 
colour. The next day thirty new shapes appeared. 
In Spain the baker's art must consist in infinite 
fertility of design. 

I bear a grudge against Spanish bread, since I 
snapped five excellent teeth in as many months. 
I was a tramp during those months ; but paying 
my way I am no better off, in fact worse off, for 
it is a dainty compliment to give one the most 
snappy piece of bread. Foreigners often ask what 
kind of macaroni they are eating — strips of bread, 
tough, slippery, and delicious, and for once in the 
proper place — ^in the soup. At a market stall in 
Salamanca, a tired-looking woman bawled, '' Aqui 
el major pan en el mundo " — Here is the best 
bread in the world. I paused to watch her ; and 
she, brightening at the prospect of a sale, held up 
a loaf and smiled. I shook my head, and she let 
the bread fall wearily with, '' The gentleman 
doesn't eat bread ! " 

At Salamanca I lodged with one Paul. I might 
as easily have shared the house of one Simon a 
tanner, for Salamanca has no end of fieshers, 
curriers, and leather dressers, and their establish- 
ments are included in the tiniest of domestic 
habitations. A street by the Tormes is made up 
of cottages, each with a small yard and pit or two, 
large enough to hold a few skins and keep a man 



A SCHOOL FOR LAGGARDS 245 

occupied. At every door is a heap of spent or new 
tan, forming an everlasting playground for the 
children. The street reeks of tan and lime, but 
these are wholesome and welcome odours, for the 
general surroundings are very dirty. 

Parents not knowing what to do with their 
children should send them to Salamanca, for here 
is a college named " The Providential '' ; here also 
is an attractive retreat for any friends of Bacchus, 
for in the Calle Prior is an inn named " El 
Rapido." 

At a second-hand shop I asked the woman how 
many years she had owned a jug. '' Go along with 
your years," said she. '' How many centuries 
have I had it, and there's a fault in my memory 
how many." 

Most of the Salamanca colleges are in ruins, 
though built as late as the seventeenth centur}^, 
and their collapse is not due to the employment 
of weak stone, but to shoddy and unprincipled 
methods of building. The walls are run up of 
rubble and mud concrete, with a mere facing of 
sandstone, limestone, or granite. 

Cold as is this region the whole population gets 
up with the sun, and I imagine this custom is 
bred out of the chilliness of the bed. Rich, poor, 
and middle-class are alike up and about soon after 
daybreak. The marketing is done very early, for 
there is a deep-rooted belief among the stall- 
holders that it is fatal to refuse the first offer of 
the day, hence the thrifty housewife goes or sends 



246 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

to market early, that she may make a good bar- 
gain. In the south and east many things are 
bought from hawkers at the door, but in other 
provinces every woman has it a part of her faith 
to attend the morning market. They are good 
judges and never shy of driving a bargain. The 
market-baskets of Salamanca are enormous affairs, 
holding up to two bushels ; and some have little 
wicker cribs inside them to protect eggs, soft fruit, 
or such things as might be crushed or spoilt. 

The housework in any part of Spain is not one- 
tenth of that which is found necessary in England. 
First of all there are no fires or fireplaces, little or 
no furniture beyond what is necessary, no orna- 
ments, carpets or rugs, and a general indifference 
to dust. Floors and stairs are of stone, brick, 
marble or tiles ; there is no scrubbing of anything 
beyond kitchen utensils, and nothing can possibly 
be out of place and call for rearranging. A maid 
does all she finds necessary to one or two rooms 
in an average of about three minutes. Most atten- 
tion is paid to the sweeping of the floors, and in 
whitewashing, for wherever the Moorish influence 
has spread this practice amounts to a passion. A 
dog or donkey cannot enter the house, or even 
pass up the street, without the women-folk seizing 
the whitewash brush and flying to paint out any 
spots or signs of untidiness left by the intruder. 
Windows are few, very small, and seldom cleaned ; 
in many towns there is practically no glass, for 
shutters and the reja — ^iron guard — are most com- 



THE FEAST OF TAJARES 247 

mon. The only house in which I thought there 
was enough light was at a blind asylum at 
Tividavo ! 

From a knoll at Salamanca one can see nearly 
fifty miles north and west — one vast garden of 
rolling downs, composed of fairly good and per- 
manent soil. This region has for centuries carried 
wheat, barley, and rye, and is the ancient granary 
of Europe. 

The feast of Taj ares — a village near Salamanca — 
is worth visiting for the curious types of humanity 
to be seen there. The province claims a type named 
'' The Charro,'' the men and women who preserve 
the oldest provincial dress. It is a very elaborate 
costume, the skirts of the women in the form 
of circular aprons, and the materials and colours 
vary much. The stockings are most beautifully 
hand-worked linen-thread, or silk, but always 
white ; the fancy-work is made of jewels, lace 
medallions, and flowers, and almost entirely sur- 
rounded with little silver and gold sequins. A 
great many jewels and rings are worn, and the 
head-dress is an embroidered handkerchief (not a 
mantilla) more than a yard square. The Sala- 
mantinas claim that this dress suits every type of 
face and figure ; it is too expensive for everyday 
use, and is sported only on festive occasions, but 
the men^s, being more practical, is in general use 
to-day. 

Taj ares is the home of '' Our Lady of Health.'' 
She dispenses that blessing on the fifth of June. 



248 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

The road to Taj ares showed thousands of country- 
folk, mounted and on foot ; but not one hat or 
bonnet in all the crowd. Handkerchiefs, chiefly 
black, but some coloured and tied in the simplest 
fashion, were worn over the head by most elderly 
women ; but the majority were bareheaded, ex- 
cepting that they were protected by fine crops of 
well-dressed hair. Most of those on foot carried 
yard-long candles. Every horse and mule on the 
road bore two or more people — a man and his 
wife and their babe ; mother and daughter ; sister 
and brother ; or father and daughter sharing the 
same mount. It is surprising how cleverly the 
hind seat sticks on to the bare sloping rump of the 
jog-trot animal. The donkey usually carries but 
one person, excepting mothers with their nurslings, 
or three or four children tied pannier-fashion and 
carried in the alfora — or pannier-bags — on the 
donkey's back. 

At this feast several men dressed in the '' charro" 
costume furnished no end of delight to the crowd 
by their playing and tom-toming of rude dance 
music. Each player had a large wooden w^histle 
with a broad mouthpiece and three little key- 
holes at the opposite end, so that he held and 
played with one hand ; with the other he cleverly 
beat a deep side-drum and strutted about with as 
much display of pride as a Scotch piper. The 
music and the tune is like one hears from the native 
peoples of north Africa, something between a drum, 
a cymbal, and a tambourine led by a piping reed» 



A FAIR AND MERRY TIME 249 

This dancing on the west of Spain is evidently 
very old, and one has only to watch the performers 
and the merriment to see the beginnings in civilisa- 
tion. The couples stand up flicking their fingers, 
and flit about before each other like so many dazed 
May-flies ; one cannot say they do more, for they 
neither speak nor smile.; and there is another sign 
of age in this dance as the man always leads, the 
woman looking at his feet and imitating his move- 
ments as best she can, with the result that she is 
always a little behind time. 

All classes are drawn to seek health at the feast 
of Taj ares, but the crowd is made up chiefly from 
the small towns and pueblos within a day or two's 
journey. Some shepherds and goatherds were here 
in complete rigs of leather, wool on the skin for 
jackets, leather breeches laced at the side, leather 
caps and slippers — ^hat to heels, all self-made 
garments from the skins and coats of their flocks. 
Beggars do well at all feasts, for no matter who 
the patron saint may be he must open the heart. 
Hence there is no end of vagrants, whose rags and 
neglected frames are often repellent. The most 
primitive type of woman here is very small and 
mean of feature. She is in no way bad or vulgar 
in appearance, but almost monkey-like in expres- 
sion. The faces are dark brown, and much of the 
hair is brown also, black being the least common. 
The better class of countryman is a fine type with 
extremely open and frank manners. 

I came here for information, and, if possible, 



250 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

to gather wisdom, but though the schools are 
disappointing, there is something to be gained 
from my temporary lodging. I have one Rosario 
for cook and waiting - maid, and after two days 
or less she is madly jealous of another servant, 
the mistress of the house, and some women who 
live on the same floor. Their room is a secret 
place, and it ought to be, for it can hardly 
possess windows, though goodness knows where 
they cannot put them in Spain. I have seen 
them in floors, and have been asked to believe 
I could get sufficient light out of a looking-glass, 
and though one may do so at times, '' the sun's 
the thing,'' as Shakespeare should have said 
— and would have had he known me. Anyhow — 
and it is so built — this house is about ten rooms 
and cribs deep, measuring it backwards, and the 
back is another man's wall, and he is mean, and 
will not let in any light without payment. I have 
the first room, whence the light comes. The rooms 
off the passage behind me have doors with a bit of 
glass in them, but mine is a solid door, and so I 
shut out all that may be called light. I am in- 
geniously told to close my window and open the 
door as '' more wholesome," but in this case I am 
selfish, stern, and silent. 

But I began with Rosario' s jealousy. It is most 
pronounced, and if I don't mind she will '' drop " 
me, and then I may go hang for my tea, shaving- 
water and such other luxuries as she alone can 
provide. She asked me if I were '' free," and of 



THE WAY OF A WIDOW 251 

course I said Yes ! So was she ! She has been a 
a widow for two years. It might easily have been 
twenty-two, for she bears no trace of having loved 
and lost. In brief, she proposed to me in half a 
dozen ways, and I had been there but forty hours ! 

The other woman told her I had the " retrato '* 
of a beautiful lady in my room, and up Rosario 
came to know the meaning of it. I had forbidden 
the pair of them to touch or even come near my 
writing-table, so Rosario stood off and affected a 
curious yet very complimentary laugh at the por- 
trait. I went on writing, and said, as if shaping a 
word for the paper, '' sister,'' and she, imitating 
my voice to a nicety, '' Ya lo creo ! '' (You'd better 
believe it !) She is a good sort, and truly human, 
so I could not be angry or annoyed. I humoured 
her and said the lady was a dear friend, and some- 
how Rosario was pacified, but I know she said in 
her heart — as all women do — '' It can never be the 
same again ! " 

As I wrote, the second woman came to square 
my room. She put both elbows on the table beside 
me, leaned over, picked up the portrait, and said 
scornfully, '' What is this ? " I answered her as 
Rosario — a friend. '' Your no via " (sweetheart), 
said she with a challenge. I laughed, but said 
nothing, and she went on, '' You are very kind to 
carry your friend round the world in a sack " — 
for so she phrases my bag and baggage. I say 
it is my custom, and she caps it by saying it is a 
custom of all the world. 



252 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

This Salamanca crib is a corker in the matter of 
distance from the world if one wishes to get there 
in a hurry. If there were a fire one need not 
hesitate to drop, for it is barely twenty-five feet 
to the street, but to walk along and round and 
down a bit and up a bit, and round again, and then 
back and then down and then up two steps and 
then down a flight, and then corkscrew somewhere, 
and then along — but which way I don't know — 
and then a glimpse of light and a smell of the street, 
and then back an exasperatingly long way and 
into utter darkness again, and then turn and go 
down four steps, and then into a long passage with 
a peep-hole at the end, and I walk towards it 
and discover a piece of glass in a door which opens 
like a charm if I pull it very hard, and lo, here is 
daylight, and I am in the street ! 

Now this is no exaggeration, but a description 
of the puzzle-house I am lodged in in El Corrillo, 
Salamanca. Any one doubting this narrative 
had better come and see for himself. One has to 
write '' himself," because women do not travel 
alone in Spain — or at least, not for long, and 
with all the Rosarios it is a miracle that any 
men do. 

I used to wonder why puzzle-houses were built, 
but I now conclude it was because the builders 
grew puzzled over the work and struggled out of 
the affair as best they could. Then, in Spain, 
there is the fixed habit of willing parts of houses to 
different members of the family, and each section 



THE SWEETS OF LOVE 253 

doing its best to be independent of and walling 
off the other. As I have pointed out earlier, 
my little friend near Malaga has half a kitchen 
and all the fireplace. Her jealous sister-in-law 
will not use the fireplace, but she owns the 
whole of the doorway. My friend Trinidad is 
beautifully clean in her domestic habits, but the 
sister-in-law never sweeps her share of the floor 
space. On the other hand, she uses her share for a 
fowl-pen, and the '' pen " is plural — a number of 
portable cages, and they nearly always bar the 
door. Trinidad asked me, in all seriousness, if I 
thought her relative who so willed things could 
ever get out of purgatory, and if so, would he be 
sent upwards or downwards ? 

I pointed downwards, and Trinny smiled to- 
wards heaven. 

Two exceedingly neat and good-looking sisters 
occupy a big room at the back, close under the 
eaves of this house, and one of them has a lover. 
This poor wretch has to ask permission to go 
through a house at the back of ours, in another 
street, then he has to climb through a shed sky- 
light, cross two or three rickety roofs, and at last 
perch on a little sentry-box building beside which 
flows a malodorous drain, and there he divides 
his time between balancing himself, holding his 
nose, and sighing love's old song to the stars and 
the lady above. 

I am told, for, of course, I do not know, that 
girls living three or four stories high have a hard 



254 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA 

chance of getting and holding a lover, but I incline 
to think that even in their case the difficulties of 
naeeting will not prove insurmountable. 

Where the Spanish girl can have no window or 
screened door near the ground, or within reach of 
the lover's eye or ear, her parents will usually ask 
for a little light to be let in on the subject in the 
shape of a '' speak and peep " hole in the wall or 
in the door on a landing or stairway. I have never 
seen a maiden peeping out of the holes in the walls, 
which are made to serve for chimneys, but the 
peculiar position and size of these holes makes one 
half suspect they are made to assist love at a 
pinch. 

Rosario is intensely anxious to serve, befriend, 
and interest me. She is short and plump, and has 
alert black eyes, which twinkle when they catch 
mine, and I see her brain working to divine what 
would be an attractive topic with which to regale 
me. Sometimes I see she is in trouble with herself, 
and then I try to help her. One day I told her of 
what I had seen during a country walk, and it was 
plain as day she was making a mental pilgrimage 
during every step of the way. Then I said, '' Oh, 
where is the battlefield ? '' and her face became a 
poem of pure delight, for she was able to instruct 
me ! 

She turned round two or three times in order to 
get up the necessary steam, then, pointing with 
two outstretched hands and her head thrown back, 
she almost laughed out. '' It's here ! — here ! — 



LEAVETAKING 255 

right through the wall ! " ''Go along with you ; 
it was not as far in the town as this that the actual 
battle was fought I " '' Yes, yes ! " she exclaimed 
in frantic joy, ''it's here ; the same ! '* " But 
what battle do you mean, then ? '' " Los gallos '* 
(the cockpit !), which was really next door, though 
I had been inquiring for the site of the battle of 
Salamanca ! I was booked to leave at four o'clock 
on a raw morning, but Rosario sat fast, like a 
faithful spaniel, on one of the many stairs, and 
there shivered till it was time to call me. 

I offered her a little money present, which she 
took shyly, and then, armed for a final effort, she 
said, " What do you want to leave me for ? Good- 
bye, and for six months ! Mind ! No more ! '' 



CHAPTER XX 

THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST 

I HAD not been well at Salamanca, and my in- 
disposition brought me no end of friends. 
They proved the kindest-hearted crowd, and, 
although a stranger, I was treated with something 
like affection. I have no wish to forget Rosario's 
dark eyes ever looking up and asking what she 
could do in the way of service. Marianna was 
equally kind, and I believe she will live long from 
the health-giving effect of telling — as I heard her 
about ten times a day — that she had danced with 
an English caballero on the kitchen floor ! 

After all, I found the battlefield of Salamanca, 
for I journeyed to Arapiles, and saw the two ridges 
occupied by the allies when the fight ended. A 
column on the highest ground where the Duke was 
hit by a spent bullet commemorates the battle. 
In a certain book, Thomiere, who led the French, 
gets killed off early in the day and badly wounded 
at the close ! Thomiere would excuse the error 
and be glad to see it that way. 

South of Salamanca the country runs poor till 
one reaches the Sierras de Grados. These moun- 
tains rise to over eight thousand feet, and carry 

256 



A TURNER PICTURE 257 

heavy snow with here and there steep faces of rock, 
and gorges black as night from the cold sweat of 
the snows thawing on the sunlit heights. I met 
one little wolf here, and he was by far the most 
timid of us, for he scurried up a long, bare slope, 
where, out of range, he crouched and surveyed his 
enemy. After climbing to a cold and windy 
height a train bore me through a tunnel and out 
on the southern side of the mountains, where all 
was in entire contrast to the bleak and sterile 
hills and wild plains of the north. All the south 
was forested with ash and oak, sweet chestnuts, 
walnuts, and giant cherry trees in full fruit and 
covered with leaves of great size and most delicate 
green ; and looking down were hedged and walled 
fields, peasants garnering hay, and villages of red 
and white perched on crags and tucked away in 
blue hollows among the hills. And further on 
were valleys streaked with streams ; gay orchards, 
and little plots of ripening grain ; and far away 
were glinting rivers and mills and grey towns peer- 
ing through heated mist and arcs of rainbow 
light ; and to one side of the world were gathering 
clouds, and the threat of storm, all exactly as in 
a Turner picture. At the height whence I moved 
the air was pure and invigorating, but the scene 
was so vast and strong, and good, and all so lovely 
that it produced a real pain of heart. It took 
fully two hours to descend to the hot, dry plains 
towards Placencia, and over all the way I was 
treated to the most beautiful natural scenery and 



258 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST 

charming of peasant homes and employments. 
The people are of medium size, clean and intelli- 
gent ; a true mountain t3^pe. The Portugal oak 
gi'ows wild in this region, and the pink — small, 
but truly pink in colour — ^is so prolific as to smother 
the rocks on which it grows. The mulleins are 
tall, branchy, and more decorative than those of 
northern countries ; the colour, too, is better — a 
deep orange to a rich sulphur-yellow, and the 
flowers extra large. 

The main traverse line of these mountains, 
known as Tras de Sierra, is broidered with tiny 
lane-like fields, winding between the rocks and 
gorges, supplied mth rich red soil from the heights 
above. The haystacks are built round poles stuck 
in the ground in the corners of the hedged and 
walled enclosures. From the centre pole others 
hang round like the ribs of an umbrella, and by 
their weight keep the stack proof against rain and 
wind. A bunch of green oak boughs, which has for 
a penny or more been blessed by the priest, is tied 
on the top to keep off the evil e3'e and the \\Tath 
of God. 

Xo land offers more complete contrasts than 
Spain. This region is not merely beautiful, but in 
an agricultural sense rich and inexhaustible, and 
all its people busy and content, yet fifty miles 
south, on the low, hot plains of clay, and the 
shingle and sand-drifts of ancient rivers, the people 
are hopelessly poor and the villages pictures of 
abject misery. 



CLEAN CASCERES 259 

Casceres was my objective, and for no more 
definable reason than that it was the birthplace of 
Dona Maria, the great lady with whom I shared a 
summer in the valley. Round Casceres the country 
has a starved and churlish look, but it contains 
some excellent grain lands, is famed for the pigs 
and bacon it yields, and has grown into prominence 
for its phosphate and lime deposits. Here, again, 
one sees the widest contrast in the types of people 
and their habitations. The country-folk are small, 
but beautifully formed, quiet, and gracious ; but 
there is a group at Ourdes who are known as 
savages, as they live without love or licence, and 
have an unenviable reputation for thieving and 
cunning. 

Casceres rambles over two or three gentle hills 
and hollows, and is immaculately clean. History 
sayeth that several hundred years ago Estrama- 
dura was almost depopulated by a plague. As 
much may be said of every city and region of 
ancient renown. But plague or no plague, Cas- 
ceres is to-day clean enough to deserve to escape 
every form of contagion, for there is not a dirty 
street, house, individual, or garment. At first I 
thought they had heard I was coming, and fur- 
bished up the fronts, feeling sure that the crowds 
would prevent my seeing the backs ; but no — for 
the houses have no backs, all sides butting on to 
streets or patios which are pictures, clean and 
pleasing. 

The town is a veritable museum of old stones. 



26o THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST 

and the stones are of the everlasting kind — hard, 
grey, mica-spangled granite — and where they have 
been leaned against, rubbed against, and blown 
against, and sun-scorched, and trodden under foot 
for a round four hundred years they have not 
lost the marks of the chiselling and hammering 
they received from the hands which wrought 
them for the building and paving of this old place. 
Judged from any standpoint this is a rare spot, 
and one sees how much depends on the raw 
material available for the building of towns. 

I used to blame the Spaniards and other southern 
people for making bad bricks, but now I know that 
it is largely a question of fuel. They can make the 
finest of tiles, because their thinness admits of 
proper baking, and where they have the fuel they 
make good bricks ; but the mere trash of the vine- 
yards, olive-groves, and brush-covered hills holds 
not the heat necessary to make heavy and hard 
bricks in all regions ; this is why so many houses 
and towns look ramshackle and ruinous. 

Casceres holds fuel and clay which provide 
beautiful terra-cotta, coarse kinds of pottery, and 
very hard bricks ; but with wealth at command, 
granite was used to fashion this city, which, built 
four to five hundred years ago, may stand another 
thousand and show no more than a dignified age. 
The Moors built here, but their soft brick and con- 
crete and adobe erections were mere trash beside 
the grand old houses of their conquerors. Granite 
Casceres dates from the discovery of America. 



LOVELY WOMEN 261 

Pissaro and Cortes were both of this region, and 
nearly all the fine old houses were reared by 
pioneer families who returned wealth-laden to this 
part of Spain. The Moors left a fine feature in the 
little pepper-box towers, and the Spaniards have 
improved on these by converting them into chim- 
neys, so that they are the most distinctive and 
pleasing feature of the old houses. 

The women of Casceres have remarkably even 
features, and some are perfectly lovely. Three 
distinct groups are seen, ladies, middle-class, and 
peasants, and not the slightest sign on the part 
of those below imitating the dress and airs of 
those above. The general appearance is Andalu- 
sian, but shorn of its astuteness and caution ; the 
walk is firmer, owing to a more invigorating cli- 
mate, and the eyes and hair are not black, flashing, 
or melting in the semi-theatrical way of the south- 
east. There is a good deal of freedom given to 
women, and no cynical replies are made to honest 
remarks — a pronounced and unpleasant habit of 
Levantine Spain, where women desire compli- 
ments, but doubt their sincerity. Hence their 
language and attitude often border on the offen- 
sive where one feels one has spoken in good faith. 

In Casceres is no sign of business ; no one seems 
to desire more of anything. As a community it 
is self-contained, and there is no competition 
or concern for the outside world. The children 
have intelligent and happy faces, and the little 
crowd which fills the main street and the plaza in 



/ 



262 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST 

the evening and far into the night are so attrac- 
tive in all ways as to be worth a pilgrimage to see. 
Then one is helped by things absent — there is such 
complete rest, such proof of the means to live with- 
out strife and desperate energy. In the poorer 
parts the street scenes are quite Eastern, for the 
walls carry devices in palm branches and dragons, 
and the black hand, which keeps off the evil eye, 
is drawn in charcoal on the whitewashed walls. 
Then the women carry everything on their heads ; 
pitchers, baskets, bundles of wood, washing, mar- 
ket produce, poultry and hawkers' wares of all 
kinds are carried aloft. The favourite drinking- 
water is drawn from a fountain to one side of the 
town, and at all hours a stream of women and girls 
go to and fro with immense pitchers cleverly 
balanced on the side, when empty, and borne 
erect on the head when full. The pitcher borne 
aloft improves the carriage of the head and body. 
Grace of movement left the English when they left 
off wearing the sword. So long as there was a 
weapon to take hold of, an enemy was possible, 
and some occasion for alertness, a fine stride and 
set face. The clanking and the care of the weapon 
imposed certain movements, all graceful and in- 
dicative of courage and strength. Neither the 
staff, stick, nor umbrella have succeeded in main- 
taining a good carriage. 

I verily believe that man looks his best when 
conscious that he has genuine enemies and a 
weapon about him. 



WATER-CARRIERS' WALK 263 

The pitcher-pad is a heavy ring of black, red and 
yellow flannel plaited to produce a square pattern. 
A loose loop hangs from this over the neck of 
the wearer, and it forms a distinctive head-dress, 
many going about the house in seeming uncon- 
sciousness that they are so adorned. The loop is 
brightened by two or three yellow rosettes, making 
it as much of an ornament as a convenience. The 
hair of these water-carriers is all done alike, drawn 
straight back and coiled high as a wisp that it may 
act as a support for the ring and the pitcher. The 
local ear-rings are of gold and Moorish in design, 
though the people say that they passed into Spain 
from the neighbouring country of Portugal. 
Every girl's ambition is to earn a pair of these huge 
ear-rings ; they cost ten duros, or nearly two 
pounds, and lace-making is the most certain means 
of acquiring the money. Many women and girls 
go bare-footed ; one elderly woman said she had 
never worn foot-gear; consequently the feet are 
large, but all have very graceful figures. 

I had expected Casceres to furnish some inter- 
esting interiors in the way of fittings and utensils, 
but its primitive character attracted the northern 
curiosity buyer, and he has done his work well. 
Every house and shop has been deprived of all 
light and transportable materials, and refitted 
with stuff made in Germany, America, or else- 
where outside Spain. Excepting food-stuffs, al- 
most everything found in the houses and the shops 
hails from abroad. The dress of the well-to-do is 



264 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST 

a mixture of English, French, and German, with a 
tang from Madrid, and a braiding from Morocco ; 
thus Casceres is a strange combination of things 
new and old, but it possesses the charm of quiet 
born of a genuine indifference to outside concerns. 
An impressive shrine is found at the Virgin del 
Monte ; a series of granite crosses mark the way, 
and a little church is built out on a ledge of rock. 
There is also a rough amphitheatre in the open 
air, and a wrought-iron pulpit, whence the canon 
of Casceres preaches a sermon at the feast of the 
Virgin in April. 

The people of Casceres impress one as unusually 
good-natured. It does one good not to feel obliged 
to die with a poor opinion of human nature. At 
Casceres, because the cochero told me so to do, 
I beat down the posadero fifty cents a day, and he 
retaliated by placing on my plate food of far 
higher value than the money I was paying him ! 
Then they gave me the best room in the house and 
got in a boy specially to look after me. I own to 
hating the boy; he was good-looking, clean, but 
all too attentive, too beastly kind ! He called me 
'' Little gentleman," and not infrequently '' Poor 
little fellow." 

I was not very well, and taking heavy doses of 
quinine to keep off a cold, but I felt more afraid 
of the fever which raged under the patronage of 
this boy. The hostess was exceedingly kind, and 
a good cook. She had a baby two months old, and a 
little girl of three or four, and when I realised that 



A SON OF STOUT CORTES 265 

I was little less than a parasite in the house I went 
forth and bought shoes and cap for the baby, and 
sweets and a doll for the little girl. There was 
nothing grasping about mine host and his wife ; 
but the boy seemed to scent the Bank of England 
in me, and he never failed to point out the con- 
trast between his own cotton garments and mine, 
which were of wool. Like Maria, he found fault 
with me, or rather with my shabby clothes — ^he 
told me that his figure would set off any clothes of 
mine, and he would do his best to preserve my 
memory after I had left Casceres. This would be 
an idle tale, save that he told it in a way that was 
at once exasperating and irresistible. Every time 
he put a plate before me he would, with his fingers, 
sample its contents as a proof of its genuineness. 
In some circumstances I would have cleared him 
out, plate and all ; but I confess to falling under 
his spell. He had an audacity that was for once 
good to see. He would put his arms round my 
shoulders and hug me, telling me I would never 
grow fat unless I took his advice. As the meal 
drew to an end he would fetch his own plate from 
the kitchen and, sitting opposite, show me by 
speech, gesture, and genuine action how to put 
away a square meal. Towards the end of my stay 
I grew to dislike him cordially, and yet I felt he 
was good at heart, so I surprised myself into 
giving him the clothes which he had set his heart 
upon. 



CHAPTER XXI 
A pilgrim's dole 

AFTER wandering over Portugal I went on to 
^ Galicia, entering Spain where the ]^Iinho 
forms the boundary between the two countries. 
An estuary runs inland for about twenty miles 
before the river assumes its fresh-water character, 
and the scenes around this estuary are of great 
beauty. Much of the land runs up into high 
natural towers of rock, and some of these are 
castle- and fort-crowned. In the more generous 
lowlands are handsome private houses, and do- 
mains and comfortable farmsteads by the hundred 
peep out from among woods of deep green. 
Where the country is more open the grape-vine 
clambers, or there is corn or meadow land. Thou- 
sands of cots, red and white, are dotted over an 
immense sloping area, so that it appears to be 
under a summer snowstorm. Here and there are 
little towns and villages, and about them are 
more fields and woods. Roads and lanes wind 
temptingly across the hills, and man is every- 
where busy among the crops. On the wide watery 
plain, ships are gliding or lying idle in the little 
bays ; and out towards the west some craft have 

266 



A SUMMER DAY 267 

their sails set and are flying with golden wings 
in the face of the sun. Many little black and sun- 
warped boats lie in the shadows by the shore. 
There are jetties, ferries, bridges, fishing- villages, 
and near to each a patchwork ot cultivated land 
and glistening lines where the crops are receiving 
irrigation water. All the unfilled land is covered 
with flowers, and there is a hum of bees and flies, 
all of which proclaim it summer-time. And, 
should we doubt the fact, there are many tired 
husbandmen and women, and innumerable don- 
keys, mules, goats, and sheep enjoying rest in 
quiet shade. 

One needs no more than time to see these things 
and then to say, '' Life is good." So after a day 
spent in complete idleness at the mouth of the 
Minho, I went on to Tuy, where the scenery was 
possibly more lovely. 

From Tuy to Redondela, which is near Vigo, 
the road makes iaint with too much sweet ; no 
mounts and hills, trees, and floods have ever com- 
bined to make a more perfect natural garden. 
The highest country is bare — all the soil washed 
into the vales, where boulders project above tall 
trees, and yet for some reason they look no more 
than pebbles. The people put their houses along- 
side these enormous water-worn stones, and often 
paint and whitewash them in parts till one has 
to look carefully to make sure which is the boulder 
and which the house. Then they train vines over 
the house and over the boulder too ; and either 



268 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

paint or put wood or stone crosses on the houses 
and on the boulders too ; also, in growing their 
trees and vines and maize they produce schemes 
in colour and form of which the boulders are the 
essence ; and so we get a series of pictures 
which probably have no equal of their kind in 
Europe. 

These Galegans employ the same materials as 
the Japanese, and are stone- worshippers. The 
green lakes of maize and rice rising out of the 
sludge of the vales are also of the East. Above 
them are terraced fields and quaint wooden houses 
embowered in vines, wistaria, and honeysuckle, 
all rank but splendid. Water is heard at times, 
but seldom seen, for it is so well guarded and kept 
to use that it flows almost everywhere under dense 
vegetation ; but all is so green, so jubilant and 
tense with life, one wants no more. It is the 
greenest of green worlds. The thrift of the pea- 
sants is so pronounced, they provide no yards or 
open spaces near their houses and arrange their 
stacks of corn round high poles ; and towards the 
end of summer the stacks are covered with vines, 
so that there is not an inch of exposed and unused 
space. One may go through scores of villages and 
little towns, and see thousands of isolated cottages 
and all their inhabitants toiling amid this wealth 
of green. 

Redondela is a paradise of a town when seen 
from a high bridge which spans a ravine. It is 
broken into sections by the inroads of the sea and 



THE BLESSED GIFT OF TEARS 269 

the outpourings of the torrents from the local 
mountains. From the high bridge one looks down 
on castles and crags, lines of cottages, and tiny 
islands which appear as slumbering mammoths in 
the land-locked bays. Then there are streaks of 
river water, salt reaches and coves, and, at low 
tide, marshes with hurrying and draining streams 
without number. I came down a hill road to see 
all this in a flash ; and as I looked, the variety and 
the glory grew, until I was almost sick at heart ; 
and, as a short way out of the difficulty, I cried, 
and then was happy, and began to see more, and 
wonder more, and to take deep breaths. I felt 
there could be nothing in the world worth grieving 
about, for I stood in the presence of the beautiful 
and the best. Involuntarily I said aloud, '' I can 
make a home here," and it is well if we make such 
utterances at times, for nothing can be more com- 
forting than to feel safe and at home. It was 
two hours to nightfall, and I went on by the old 
town and the streams, crossing these by high 
bridges all bathed in a mellow and joyous light ; 
and just as the sun sank behind deep purple hills 
I arrived at — Arcade ! Accidental or implied it is 
well-named — a little town by river and seashore, 
with a long, finely arched bridge spanning the 
inlet by which it rests — a grey rookery on a steep 
hill-side. Far above rises a mount supporting a 
cross, some towering cypress and white stones to 
mark the pilgrim's way. Women shrimpers were 
wading to their waists in the salt water of the 



270 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

narrow streams, all anxious to get home to the 
bosom of their great mother before the night 
should come. This evening revealed a truly 
golden west ; whilst a band of purple lay across a 
range of southern hills. 

And so from one glory to another I passed till 
I reached Pontevedra, which, if not exactly the 
home of the gods, is an attractive spot for a travel- 
tired, hungry man. Surely, the little unsought 
things provide the great comforts in life. Ponte- 
vedra water makes one's skin feel like silk — with 
little or no soap any dirt falls away, and the body 
is swathed in a strange smooth exhilaration. I 
never laved, towelled, and combed my hair with 
such downright pleasure. At first I attributed this 
to the relief of a long and crowded day ; but no 1 
morn, noon, and night, the water was a luxury ; 
and on paying a second visit the charm seemed 
greater than before. The water is conducted 
in clay pipes from a spring in the hills. All 
metal conduits destroy the pure freshness of 
water. 

This town has a population of nine thousand, 
and though it is old-fashioned and quiet it pro- 
vides more solid entertainment than most British 
communities with ten times the number of people. 
As usual there are several clubs and public cafes 
where good music may be heard the year round, 
and the price tuppence-ha'penny ! Here is a pro- 
gramme : — 



A LATE DINNER 271 

CAFE MENDEZ— NUNEZ 

PROGRAMA 

Para Hoy 16 De Julio De 1909 



1. Cuando el Amor Muere. — Wals. 

2. Paragraph III. — Sinfonia. 

3. Pagliacci. — Fantasia. 

4. Una nit de Albaes. 

5. Marcha Larenna. 

The discomforts associated with Spanish travel 
are due chiefly to the constant changing of the 
meal hours, the food, and the water. At Ponte- 
vedra, breakfast is supposed to be served at one 
o'clock, and dinner at nine ; but they are never 
up to time. One evening it was eleven before the 
dinner appeared, and as there was nowhere to go 
after this late meal, nothing remained but to sleep 
on a full stomach. Many of the small farms and 
vineries hereabouts look like graveyards, for 
granite is split into long shafts and used as posts 
to form pergolas for the vines. The Spaniards of 
this region resemble British islanders, their phy- 
sique, dress, and employments are all like our 
own. Moreover, they play football and cricket, 
and their outlook is towards the north rather than 
to their Spanish relations in the east and south. 

This part of Spain has some excellent roads, and 
the scenery and general attractions are so varied 
that it is well worth the visit of the motorist. In 



272 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

summer the climate is lovely, and the roads quite 
equal to the need of those who travel for some- 
thing more than the exhilaration of rushing 
through the air. Spain is no place for those who 
would hurry ; and no matter where one would 
learn, to enjoy he must go slowly ; thus far I 
have met no motorists who have seen, felt, or 
come to possess anything by their travels. They 
made too much pace. 

Always a pilgrim, I turned towards Santiago de 
Compostella, the greatest of Spanish shrines and 
for centuries the sanctuary of the Christian world. 
St. James is said to have arrived in a cockle-shell 
on the coast of Galicia, and carried on a mission 
in Spain. In the eighth century his bones were 
found in a wood on the site of the city of Santiago. 
A bishop was fortunate enough to make this dis- 
covery ; and creating a shrine, it became the 
most renowned in Europe. 

To tell the plain truth about Santiago, it is in 
few things remarkable ; the cathedral and some 
other ecclesiastical buildings are certainly mag- 
nificent, and as much may be said for some of the 
streets. But though the site is picturesque, the 
setting does not inspire devotional feelings. Com- 
merce has long dominated the place, and there is 
an alertness and money-making air about it un- 
usual to Spain. Chimneys, of an immense size, 
rise above many houses, running up like roofless 
chambers, and all black because beyond the reach 
of the whitewash brush. In shape and proportion 



TAKING A HOLIDAY 273 

these chimneys are distinctly ugly ; they are men- 
tioned only because chimneys are rarely seen in 
Spain. 

I came here for the feast of Santiago, and got it 
in the form of a piece of bread, for I was promptly 
clapped in the lock-up, I had found a lodging, and 
was prowling round when a town guard inquired, 
'* Pregunto yo ? '' — I ask. I answered satis- 
factorily, but the town guard was a fool, and took 
me to the carcel — lock-up. The King was ex- 
pected, and I was regarded as a suspicious charac- 
ter who might have designs on His Majesty. 

The heat at the time was sickening, and the 
carcel so cool, clean, and airy that I was glad to 
be there. As they took my pocket-book and pencil 
from me I was unable to write, so I enjoyed a rest 
and fell back upon similar experiences ; but the 
only one I will mention coincides with this. 

Two young German mechanics decided on a 
working holiday in Spain. They imagined they 
could get employment in the principal towns and 
earn enough to enable them to see the country. 
This is quite impossible, since Spanish workmen 
are competent to do the work of their own land ; 
and unless a man is called for some special task 
he should never persuade himself that he can earn 
a bare subsistence by hand labour in Spain. But 
the Germans had the courage of youth. They 
went to Barcelona, which was cosmopolitan enough 
to provide them with a few weeks' work, and then 
they started for the south. For over four months 



274 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

they wandered, visiting scores of towns and hun- 
dreds of villages, carrying a good-sized pack and 
keeping a splendid face. They did any number 
of little jobs for the peasants, in return for bread 
and keeping their hands in trim ; but not a single 
penny did they earn over all the long journey be- 
tween Barcelona and Seville. Here their luck 
changed, for a man engaged them at once. They 
were half-starved, hard, sun-browned little men, 
who stood more in need of a week's good feeding 
and complete rest than long days of hard labour 
under a southern sun; but they had great pluck and 
entered on their task at once. They had one good 
meal, followed by four or six hours' hard work, 
and then the police came and without any parley- 
ing marched the pair of them off to the carcel ! Here 
they were kept for a fortnight, and given but the 
meanest of vegetable soup and a bit of bread every 
twenty-four hours. And their offence ? The King 
was coming to Seville, and they were foreign sus- 
pects ! The King came, and the King went in the 
course of three or four days ; but as it took a 
week or more to discuss the event, the poor Ger- 
mans were forgotten and confined for a full fort- 
night ; then told they were harmless, addressed 
as '' gentlemen," and invited to '' Go with God ! " 
I met them on a road more than two hundred 
miles from accursed Seville, and in all the land 
they had found no other job. They were making 
back for Barcelona by the Mediterranean coast 
route ; and after describing some of their adven- 



A PRISONER OF STATE 275 

tares, one of them ended by remarking, '* He had 
had enough of Spain, and would be glad to get 
back to Europe ! '' 

For myself, I had no fears in the carcel of 
Santiago. When I had grown cool and refreshed I 
made a noise and demanded to see some authority. 
There is no scarcity of this commodity in Spain. 
The Spanish ego is the biggest thing in the country. 
A sergeant came and wanted to argue, and tell 
me I must obey and be silent ; but I would 
neither. I demanded a higher authority. He 
said, '' I am the highest '' ; and I, '' No, you are 
the lowest." In fear and disgust, he brought a 
glorified kind of clerk, and when I had sized him 
up I demanded some one higher. It was then 
the inspector's turn, and fortunately for me this 
worthy was on hand. He told me to be '' pacific," 
that the best had been done for me, and that I 
was quite safe. But I did not want to be safe, and 
I would not be " pacific." I demanded to see the 
alcalde — the mayor — who is a direct government 
official and vested with far greater powers than 
our own representatives. My audacity annoyed 
the inspector ; but he was at the same time fas- 
cinated by it, for Spaniards love courage, and even 
braggadocio captivates and beats them. It was 
now evening, but still hot outside, and the whole 
crowd of officials conversed of the danger of ap- 
pealing to the alcalde until quite sure there had 
been a natural termination to his siesta. But as 
they could not confine me beyond hearing, I kept 



2/6 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

up a running fire until a civil guard was despatched 
to the house of the alcalde. When he came the 
situation changed at once, for he knew me ! At a 
southern town I had been taken to a club, and 
had talked with some of its members. The alcalde 
of Santiago chanced to be there, and we recognised 
each other at once. There was a good laugh on 
both sides ; he called me amigo — friend — and all 
that remained was to drink each other's health in 
cafe. 

So I got my liberty, but during the remaining 
days I was constantly appealed to by police in 
uniform and civihan dress with " Pregunto yo ? " 
This was most unusual, for though my wanderings 
in Spain run to many thousands of miles, and 
though I have been imprisoned over and over 
again, and as frequently taken for a spy, I was 
never before subjected to this running inquiry 
from the police of a city. I can recall at least half 
a dozen towns where I have been visiting at the 
same time as the King, but my familiarity with the 
crowd and the customs has allowed me to pass un- 
challenged. 

If the feast of Santiago is always carried out 
during such sickening hot weather as I experienced 
then, it must test the zeal of the rehgious pilgrim. 
Talk of a shrine of salvation ! the idea of hell must 
have been invented here ! Pilgrims of all types 
have come in thousands, and during the daytime 
they wear an expression of fear, so intense is the 
heat. This may be but a heat wave, for the popula- 



MAKING THE BEST OF IT 277 

tion is sturdy and masculine. Ford condemns the 
women of this province for looking like hags at 
thirty ; I wonder they are not hags at thirteen, 
for they are drudging continually, and in this 
withering heat they are the only folk on the move 
— women hawking fruits and fish, driving pigs and 
donkeys, carrying enormous bright steel water- 
vessels, and sweeping the streets. These are the 
Amazons of Spain. One cannot accuse the men of 
being idle, but their employments take them away, 
and all the hard work is done by the women. One 
notes a masculine form of competition amongst 
them too, even to arguing for first place with the 
pitcher at the well. Slave-like labour imposes 
untidy habits, and there is little display of pride 
in the arrangement of the hair and dress of the 
poorer class. 

I have often had to complain of the Spanish pig ; 
in Santiago he is my nearest neighbour. 

Mazarelos, number seven, 
May to many a soul be Heaven ; 
Certainly the handmaid's pretty, 
And she charms with eye and ditty ; 
Likewise she is sweet and kind, 
A merry maid to love inclined. 
She gave me every need and favour, 
And vowed her service beggars labour. 
She praised me for my gracious smile, 
And thought me like her Queen — no guile ! 
And though she may be wrong to blazes, 
I do not care what he or she says. 
This girl, she felt she spoke the truth ; 
So God be thanked I knew such youth ; 
But here I meant to say no more 



278 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

That just as many times before 

I came to lodge and sleep with swine, 

Or lie awake and hear them whine. 

For och ! and at my very nose 

And round about, and near my toes. 

The pigsty e wrack and odour flows ! 

It's just a custom, nothing more, 

To keep pigs on the basement floor ; 

And if the pigs complain and swear, 

They place them further up the stair ; 

And my complaint brings, " Lawks-a-mussy, 

Why are you foreigners so fussy ? " 

So here am I in pilgrim guise 

Sleeping between two foul pigstyes, 

Which if they do not make me sick 

Will drive me onwards pretty quick ! 



God bles- the little pink-cheeked girl 
Whose lip has such a roguish curl ! 
God smooth her pillow many a year 
And keep the pigs from scaring her ! 

Lovers may walk alone in Galicia, and in the 
towns well-dressed men are seen strolling with 
peasant maidens who come to the feast in the 
simplest style of dress with a pale yellow or white 
handkerchief tied over the head. A little shawl 
over the shoulders is brought under the arms and 
tied into a bow at the waist, whence hang two long 
tails. This type of peasant is always seen with a 
pigtail or fiat plait of hair. 

When three people are walking together it is a 
compliment to be forced into the centre position. 
In a Santiago street were three elderly fat and 
pompous men, forming a triangle, bowing, and 



THE MIDDLE COURSE 279 

pointing with great animation at the spot of earth 
between them. As there are no strangers in Spain 
I came up with, '' What's the trouble ? " and all 
said in chorus, '' The fault is that Don So-and-so 
won't take the middle/' This was not news to me, 
and I had the rudeness to laugh and to say, '' How 
silly ! " Then they all turned upon me with in- 
dignation, and, '' Oh, yes, you English, you take 
anything ! " Then I laughed again and called 
them friends, and as one fat old chap got up along- 
side me, the other two walked behind ; as couples 
there was no occasion for dispute. 

I can say no more than that I have seen Santi- 
ago, for I had no fine feelings there, and where one 
does not feel one does not live. The patron saint 
of Spain might easily be accommodated in a 
hundred places far more beautiful and hallowed. 
The town is quiet because the streets are too 
narrow for wheel or pack-animal traffic ; in fact, 
there are no animals except the pig, but him we 
smell, if we do not see him, everywhere. The 
prettiest thing I saw was a church procession of 
little girls dressed as brides, and carrying candles 
tall as themselves, which melted and tumbled 
about under the hot sun. A band of three bag- 
pipes and two little drums supplied the march 
music. There was little in the picture excepting 
that it was very old, quaint, and appealing. 

Society foregathers at Santiago as a health resort 
and place of love- and merry-making ; fully twenty 
thousand handsome men and women, all beauti- 



28o A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

fully dressed, may be seen promenading through 
the cool evenings and far into the night. 

Any true pilgrim arriving at feast time might 
write : 

"From all these eyes and/tz;^farago 
Save me, O Lord, from Santiago ! " 

For it is truly Fashion's shrine, and the crowd 
worships this goddess. The few earnest pilgrims 
are unseen, and the church bells, processions, and 
hogsheads of holy water are as nothing to the 
fireworks, bands, and jubilation of those who come 
for pleasure. Night after night I went out in 
search of something which would quieten my soul, 
for I was disturbed at finding so much worldliness 
at this reputed greatest of shrines. But seek as I 
would, I could find nothing to reverence ; nothing 
mysterious or splendid, holy or blessed. 

No pilgrim to Santiago but seeks his compostella 
or passport. This consists of a gold or silver medal, 
with a figure of the cathedral on one side, and on the 
other, St. lago on a prancing horse, with flaming 
sword beating down a host of infidel Moors. When 
it was a custom for all devout Catholics to go on 
pilgrimage, wills were often drawn to the effect 
that should the heir fail to make a pilgrimage to 
Santiago and obtain his compostella he would be 
disinherited. As customs die hard, more especially 
in Spain, no visitor to the shrine but seeks an 
amulet. The medal is bought in the town, then 
carried to a priest or higher dignitary, who, for a 
consideration, which he styles '' a regard," blesses 



THE LEGEND OF THE SHELL 281 

the compostella and its owner. A cord is attached, 
and it is supposed to be worn evermore round the 
neck. 

Other medals show the tomb of St. lago lit by 
a star ; others bear St. lago's cross ; one is in 
the form of a concha — shell — with the Ano Santo — 
year of pilgrimage. 

Out of this legend of the shell-boat of Santiago 
arose the custom of ornamenting the habits of 
pilgrims with shells, but the race of eccentrics is 
practically extinct. A solitary beggar does a trade 
in the precincts of the cathedral by parading in a 
ragged brown cloak overlaid with shells, with a 
band of them about his neck and round the brim 
of his hat. 

A farmer said, whilst scratching at a bit of sour 
soil, which I remarked needed a rest. '' Ah, sefior, 
is the land to rest that I may starve ? No ; there 
is no rest for anything in Galicia ! '' Although so 
attractive to the eye, Galicia is poor, and labour 
is limited to the valleys, which hold but little good 
soil. The hills and mountains are irretrievably 
bare; and if the farming methods are old-fashioned, 
one does not see that there would be any solid ad- 
vantage by modernising them. 

In their domestic habits the Galicians are not so 
clean as some of their neighbours ; but that is 
because they are not so well off, and water is 
scarce, or dear, which is the same. The country 
villages are composed of low stone cots or hovels ; 
nearly all are detached. The people are of medium 



282 A PILGRIM'S DOLE 

size, well formed, and never a mean walk or hard 
face is seen amongst them. The women wear 
their hair in a wisp, pigtail fashion, or with two 
narrow plaits behind the ears ; none of them 
have any fringe or foretopsail of a striking and 
alluring kind. They are more like the Cornish 
and Welsh peasantry than any other people. 
These are the reputed boors of Spain, but they do 
not deserve the harsh name. If quiet obedience 
to the laws of nature has made them wilhng, un- 
complaining slaves, one may call them boors and 
fools, but they are neither ; they have plenty of 
sense, and know that Httle is gained by growling 
and opposing. From one end of the pro\dnce to 
the other, one discerns nothing boorish or dis- 
tinctly objectionable ; they are so hard worked as 
to have little or no spirit left in them. 



CHAPTER XXII 

BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

A FTER the fashion and worldHness of Santiago 
l\ at feast time, one is glad to know the peace 
attendant on the banks of a beautiful river. The 
Sar is worthy of this name, the Minho and Sil even 
more so. I traversed the last of these for some hun- 
dreds of kilometres, and though I gathered nothing 
of a striking character, I acquired all I needed in a 
sense of security and time to commune with my- 
self. The Sil whirls by bare and rugged mountains, 
through highland plains, and halts to form reaches 
in numberless gorges and little vales. Villages are 
few and far between, and thousands of square 
miles are seen without sufficient natural wealth 
to develop and maintain anything approaching a 
town. It is about two hundred and fifty miles 
from Vigo to Leon, and throughout this distance 
only Orense, Ponferada, and Astorga may be 
classed as towns, and they are but small. The 
villagers are primitive and unalterable, for in such 
a thinly populated and rugged land there are no 
means of change. The costumes are but necessary 
garments, for it takes some means and pride of 
place to evolve a local dress. Throughout the 

283 



284 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

region drained by the Sil there is little soil, ex- 
cepting the scour and drift deposits it has made. 

The villages are built largely of wood, for chest- 
nut trees are common in the hills, and rudely 
hewn timber is arranged to form wide eaves and 
hanging verandahs. Most of the roofs are of black 
slate, or are flat stone slabs. There is no order in 
the building of houses or villages ; but a state of 
disorder at once stupid, untidy, and charmingly 
picturesque. The churches are laughable, groggy 
little affairs, built by the villagers without con- 
sulting architect, history-book, or their own in- 
telligence. All are small, some are the merest 
cots. These quaint churches bear evidence of 
great age, and wear a truly hallowed aspect, so 
grey and sleepy. Where soft-baked tiles have 
been used for roofing, they are coated with dark 
reds, gold, and deep brown mosses and lichens. 
Whole villages present no other colour than that 
of golden-brown velvet. 

The homes are wretched, but viewed from a dis- 
tance they are restful and charming pictures. The 
people are heavy, silent, and reserved. They live 
by collecting timber from the mountains and the 
produce they contrive to raise on the flats and 
banks by the river. A peasant of the Sil may own 
hundreds of little plots amid rocks and by the 
stream. One sees solitary vines, chestnuts, cork 
oaks, or half a dozen maize plants, growing out of 
a cranny of some high peak, and often a few stones 
are piled or a pole is hung to indicate the owner's 



WHEN ALL WENT WANDERING 285 

bit of landed property and to provide the means 
of his getting up and down. The signs of struggle 
for life are often so terrible that one thrills with 
the fears of what has to be endured. The river 
runs almost dry in places where the land sucks 
up the flood for irrigating, then it drains off to 
become a stream to fertilize the strips and fiats 
further down. 

Some glorious mountains are crossed, skirted, 
and threaded ; and one gets a taste of all the 
seasons on any day, for the valleys are like ovens, 
and the high peaks perishing cold. 

The only sign of the genius loci are in the tracks 
which intersect this region in all directions, the 
old pilgrim ways whence men went to and from 
Santiago, and the more beautiful sanctuary of El 
Vierzo. What mad men they were ! Yet none of 
us can afford to put them off ; the world had been 
so flat and hard and meaningless without them. 

Throughout these north - western provinces a 
singular feature is seen in the maize-sheds, chiefly 
of heavy stone, but sometimes of timber. They 
remind one of Japanese summer-houses, as they 
stand on four massive legs and have roofs with 
wide, overhanging eaves. Maize is liable to injury 
from damp ; and as this grain forms the stock 
food of many village communities, maize granaries 
are as numerous as cottages. 

At Celanova, near Orense, is an ancient sepulchre 
containing the bodies of Ilduara and Adosinda, 
the founders of a church. Their tomb is sup- 



286 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

ported on four pillars, after the fashion of that of 
San Torcuato, one of the companions of Santiago ; 
and at Oviedo may be seen the Camara Santa, a 
little chapel which is said to be the second oldest 
building after the Moorish invasion. It was built 
by Don Alonzo El Casto, in 802, as a receptacle 
for the sacred relics which had been translated 
from Toledo at the time of the Moorish conquest. 
The sarcophagus is raised from the ground to 
preserve the relics from damp — I quote from 
''Murray'' — as it seems certain that the maize- 
houses have grown out of these ancient tombs and 
sanctuaries. The priests and pilgrims acquainted 
with the tombs would spread the information con- 
cerning their shape and usefulness, and to-day 
thousands of maize-houses are of corresponding 
form. Any one pursuing this subject will find 
the best granaries in wood and granite near Ponte- 
vedra, along the Portuguese frontier, and between 
Ponferada and the head- waters of the Sil. 

Round Orense the country is open and contains 
some very good soil, and further north, where the 
great plain of Leon begins, there are all the natural 
materials to provide a sturdy yeoman class. This 
district is held by the Maragatos, a strange tribe 
who bear little resemblance to their neighbours. 
A good deal has been written about them, but no 
clear account has been given of their origin, dress, 
and social customs. They are in many ways 
different from the Spaniards around them. They 
live in villages destitute of design or order, have 



THE MARAGATOS 287 

no sense of beauty in their homes ; and, where 
villages have stood for hundreds of years, there is 
not a single tree, flower, hedge, or wall, excepting 
where needed to form a yard. Every house is like 
its neighbour, a rude square pile of dull red mud 
or of sun-dried bricks, standing out on open plains 
— it is hard to distinguish a Maragato village from 
an acre or two of hummocky land. These are a 
stern, thrifty folk, devoid of all concern for any- 
thing more than daily bread ; and as they use up 
everything as they go along, have no means of 
building or planting for effect. At first sight one 
would read the Riot Act over them for not doing 
more in the way of improving their land ; but 
climate is seen to be a stern arbiter ; even the 
summers yield some bitter weather, and the winters 
must always be hard. Life here is a continuous 
fight against perishing winds and long seasons of 
snow and cold rain. At harvest time the scenes 
are enchanting, for the wheats are of the red- 
straw and red-eared types, and cover a boundless 
world with red gold. Practically all the labour is 
by hand, and the bulk of the harvest reaped by 
women and girls, who are shapely, even-featured, 
and clean, if we except the red dust or mud which 
is ever about their clothes. 

I am not bent on describing cathedrals, but I 
should be selfish if I neglected to say a word or 
two on that of Leon. I went early one morning 
to be thrilled, and I know that my face was 
radiant for hours after. I had but one regret — 



288 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

that all peace-seeking souls were not there to 
share the experience with me. A Japanese has 
said, '' Great art is that before which we long to 
die/' At Leon one feels that both the soul and 
the body are safe, that one stands in the sanctuary 
of the world, and that there is nothing more to be 
done or feared. I cannot tell how this glorious 
pile possesses, moves, and rejoices. During my 
first day at Leon I visited the cathedral three 
times, and the next four. Time after time I sat 
down to write, but ever with a feeling that I v/as 
presumptuous, committing an act of sacrilege. 
To me the architect has long been the world's great 
artist. He of all men creates, subdues, and 
satisfies. We can reverence buildings more than 
anything else which man has made. 

Leon cathedral has had its interior entirely re- 
built, and one is glad to discern that real love lay 
behind the modern architect and builder's work. 
On entering this house of God one is convinced 
that one has stumbled upon heaven. The propor- 
tion is perfect, the walls are light as cobwebs, be- 
jewelled with the most effective and abundant 
display of stained glass. So overwhelmed was I, 
that I gasped and went out ; then returned and 
went out again, because I could not help speaking 
aloud. *' This is a holy thing ! " ''I have found 
the holy thing," I kept saying — and it is holy ! 
Man may hope to see nothing more religious, 
deified, and soul-satisfying. 

Leon cathedral is a vast open chamber, but one 



AN OFFERING TO OUR LADY 289 

realises that it is filled with the Spirit of God. All 
the walls are of glass, framed with clusters of 
narrow columns. The centre-piece of the eastern 
window is all lemon - gold and celestial - blue, 
with a little ruby, green, and white ; and when 
the morning sun floods the vaulted space with 
rainbow beams, one feels able to tread them up 
to heaven. Surely there can be no glass to equal 
this ? Near to the high chapel there is a tomb 
to Ordoho the Second. His effigy lies behind a grill 
or light iron screen. When the sun shines through 
the east window, it shows Ordofio's head on a rose- 
red pillow, with a veil of amber over his face, 
caused by the sunlight shining through the grill. 
Anything more artistic would be hard to find. 

Here, with gladness, I did what I had never done 
before — put hard cash into a Romish money-box ! 
For at the gate of a side chapel I see, '' Limosna 
Para la Virgen del Camino " — '' Alms for Our 
Lady of the Road.*' This is my chance, for I am 
eternally on the road, and with much to be thank- 
ful for I must needs make offering. I want to pay 
as far as in my power for the blessed privilege of 
being led in safety over the long road to this holy 
place. I am sobered and tempered by what I have 
seen and felt, lost and longed for in the past ; now 
I know where is beauty, food for the soul, and the 
thing all-worthy. Pilgrim, wherever you are, set 
your face towards Leon whilst it is day ! 

For the first time I sat down to write within 
a cathedral, for I had an almost passionate longing 



290 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

to describe what was about me, but I was dumb ! 
This thing is to be felt ; and feeHng one desires 
repose ; any kind of effort is a waste of precious 
time and an insult to the claims of one's soul. 
No need to go into details — ^in one sense there are 
none — for with all the lightness, grace, and colour 
are no obtrusive vanities, tombs, or brazen orna- 
ments. The form and colour make a monument of 
glory ; one wants to sit quietly under the spell of 
it. Here I worship colour for the first time. Till 
now I had discovered beauty only in form, but I 
recant as this colour uplifts me. I try to discern 
what it is that makes this such a lovely church ; 
call it the perfection of the stained-glass style or 
light pointed Gothic ; but this means nothing. 
Cathedrals are like human beings — some are all 
outside show; some the embodiment of vanity; 
some nothing more than coarse ignorance and 
superstition ; but some are lofty, grand, holy, 
filled with the Spirit. 

This is Leon. It is alive and it makes one live. 
Talk about subdued effects ! — no need for dark- 
ness or even shadows here. It is four in the after- 
noon of a bright midsummer da}^, and the light is 
streaming through — how many thousand feet of 
coloured glass ? There are thirty-four immense 
windows, and forty-two only a trifle smaller, be- 
sides several rose, star-shaped, and other forms 
in the recesses. The nave is about three hundred 
feet long, and so open that one can observe most 
of the glass walls from many view-points. The 



THE GREAT BUSINESS 291 

colour of the stone is tarnished gold. Could there 
be a better frame for these wonderful pictures, 
each distinct, yet all merging into one great flood 
of holy light. 

One day three Americans, hard-featured, com- 
mercial-looking men, were walking round ; and 
one, a man about fifty, turned and inquired some- 
what angrily, '' What do you think of this ? " To 
which inquiry I made but a faltering reply ; then 
he bit his lips, looked round with a perplexed stare, 
and after a time said, with inexpressible sadness 
in his face, '' I have made a mistake ! " No doubt ! 
He realised that here was to be discerned the great 
business. We get our best lessons out of churches 
and such spots on earth as compel us to reverence ; 
and so I say again, Pilgrim, wherever you are, turn 
your steps towards Leon ! 

Leon is the cathedral, but should one desire 
more, there are the great walls which run to fifty 
or sixty feet in height, and are, on the authority 
of my own measurements, in many parts over 
twenty-seven feet thick. The market square con- 
tains a few fine old houses which have their veran- 
dahs and windows ornamented with strips of hand- 
beaten ironwork, held in place by large rose- 
headed, hand-made nails. 

The bread of this province is in the form of 
immense flat cakes from six to eight pounds in 
weight ; and the cheeses appear to be made in 
drain-pipes, for they are long and narrow, and not 
unlike so many fat arms lying on the market stalls. 



292 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD 

Many rude wooden implements, forks, harvest 
rakes, bullock bows, and animal collars are to be 
seen, and the one-piece clogs stick up on high 
heels with a notched cross-piece under the tread. 
The faces of these clogs are often well carved and 
painted in colours. The clay vessels and utensils 
are very attractive, the colour a deep red, and the 
forms varied and novel. 

The dress of the Leonese women is quite plain, 
all wearing black skirts or prints with a handker- 
chief over the head ; but the Maragatos who come 
to market wear very short dresses in colours, and 
show puffed and quilted knickerbockers. They 
wear large ear-rings of a curious shape, and the 
older the woman the more is she bejewelled. The 
Maragatos wear a peculiar silver wedding ring. 
The faces of the market-folk are good, and all are 
quiet ; no one pesters or bawls, shows temper, or 
any sign of greed. 

Motherhood. In the market-place of Leon a 
woman was suckling a baby tied within her blouse, 
and another little thing was clinging to her skirt. 
She was offering two live rabbits, and pressing 
their merits by saying their insides were worth a 
lot, as they were heavy in young. All would be 
eaten ! But do we not make much of unlaid eggs ? 
The Spaniards call all such things eggs, and praise 
them highly. I don't know how many little 
mysteries I have swallowed. 

The Leonese use a curious meat-dressing bowl, 
which they call a picadera — bit-holder. This is a 



THE LOT OF LEON 293 

well-turned wooden platter, with a round block 
left in the centre, so that it looks exactly like a 
mushroom. This vessel is most useful when mak- 
ing sausages, and for preparing salad and other 
vegetables. 

Leon stands out on a great highland plain, sur- 
rounded by rich wheat lands ; and far away are 
mountains cold and white ; for when not under 
snow they are grey, hard, and uninviting. One 
may walk round Leon in half an hour, yet it holds 
this wonderful cathedral ; and it is well to con- 
sider that it has been entirely rebuilt inside, and 
half restored on the outside, from funds raised by 
this small community. Happily, there are no 
trams here, or any street traffic on wheels beyond 
a rackety bus or two. Where trams come people 
begin to shout and quicken their pace, and all 
grows wearisome. One walks in Leon from morn 
till eve, and hears no more than the jangle of a 
mule-bell, a donkey's clattering feet, and the clogs 
and wooden-soled boots of the peasants. 

Some complain that Leon does not go ahead, 
but where is it to go to ? It depends on its great 
wheatfield, and whilst that provides a decent life 
of a quiet kind, it leaves no room for the speed of 
vanity and the lust for gain. The Leonese are 
very clean in their dress and domestic habits, and, 
which is more remarkable, the poorest streets are 
clean. As an ancient town it boasts a few subtle 
and mellifluous odours, to which it would be the 
height of impertinence to object. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

NOW ALL IS DONE 

THE road from Leon into the Cantabrians is 
almost British in character, for large trees 
are met with in variety, and there are tumbling 
and lazy streams with pollarded willows and little 
fields walled or hedged about with hawthorn and 
briar roses. 

As one ascends the pass to the Asturias the 
fields get smaller, and thousands of hay, corn, and 
potato plots give a sense of sufficiency and security 
to the homes along the mountain-side. Then come 
forests of chestnuts ; and where the surface is 
rocky, isolated trees. The beech, ash, and oak 
thrive in the Cantabrians ; nearly all are moss- 
grown, or have a wealth of ferns or moisture-loving 
vegetation at their feet. 

In the midst of this scenery I fell in with a 
market-woman and a priest holding an alterca- 
tion, she abusing him in the most audacious man- 
ner because he had told her she would be damned 
unless she supported the church. I had thought 
it impossible to hear any one, and especially a 
woman of Spain, so outspoken. But this comes of 
being born in the mountains ; and in spite of the 

294 



A VIEW OF ASTURIAS 295 

Catholic boast that its rehgion changes not in 
place or season, there are wide contrasts observ- 
able in priests and their congregations as one moves 
tip and down the world. 

Viewing Asturias from the heights the country 
is most varied, passing from the arctic to the sub- 
tropical, as the eye surveys what lies between the 
highest peaks and the coast. Towns and villages, 
rivers and cataracts, bridges and fords, forests and 
fields, winding roads and railways, appear to show 
Asturias a rich and beautiful province. One may 
travel for days through the richest of woodlands 
under bowers of chestnut, walnut, and beech ; and 
mee^ whole villages and thousands of independent 
cots stuck up on stilts^ for the climate is unusually 
damp. Hay fields and maize cover much of the low 
country. Even railway travelling is a delight here, 
for the lines run along narrow drives, and trees in 
variety meet overhead and within reach of the 
hand. The country between Norefia and Arrion- 
das is exceptionally beautiful ; every kind of 
scenery is met with, from the softest and most 
seductive to the wild and terrible. 

To reach Covadonga one leaves the main road 
at Arriondas and journeys for about fifteen 
miles up a valley, like the Wye, but more 
varied and attractive. A busy trout stream 
tumbles down this glade, and has for rival a 
little tramway with a snorting engine which 
carries pilgrims to the shrine. I got here in a 
warm, calm evening in July to find hay in the 



296 NOW ALL IS DONE 

making in high mountain fields, and flocks of 
black and white sheep folding on the slopes and in 
the valleys. 

Covadonga is overbuilt ; if it were more natural 
and the hospitality more casual, the pilgrim would 
be better pleased. The village is composed of a 
few cottages at the head-waters of a stream. 
Above is a well-built, but garish church ; a 
monastic set of buildings occupied by the pre- 
siding priests ; a large modern hotel, and the old- 
fashioned hospedaje — pilgrim's rest-house. For 
conventional comforts the tourist puts up at the 
hotel, but those seeking the atmosphere and subtle 
blessings of a shrine find the more modest and 
primitive hospedaje the better place. The great 
annual pilgrimage takes place in September, but 
one gains most in the contemplation of the glorious 
scenery — the whole region constitutes a vast 
church in the open. 

My first delight at Covadonga was fleshly. I 
wanted a meal, for beyond a small cup of chocolate 
I had not broken fast for fourteen hours. At last 
I sat down to six or seven courses, with good wine, 
excellent black coffee, and a neat maid to '' finish 
the cup,'' as she termed it, with a suspicion of 
fine brandy. But the dish which appealed most 
was new to me — veal and ham rashers spiced, 
rolled, and baked. Try it, ye gourmets ! 

Seldom a shrine without some curious or especial 
food. At Covadonga is found a dulce — sweet — 
known as '* angel's hair," composed of finely 



PILGRIM FARE 297 

shredded melon boiled in sugar and with the 
appearance of silken threads in clear honey. The 
flavour is not pronounced, but delicate ; and in 
this soft, light, purging air, it is truly angelic. 
Trout is abundant ; the fish are brought alive in 
buckets of water from the stream to the kitchen. 
Large dishes of trout are put down at almost every 
meal, and as they are cooked with rare skill one 
does not easily tire of them. The bread of Cova- 
donga is delicious, and distinctive in shape and 
texture. Within, it is smooth and white as a 
cracknel biscuit, the crust a pale yellow, sheeny, 
and without a crack. Half a pound of dough is 
rolled into a strip, and the knobby ends are brought 
round to resemble the heads of two tired little 
goblins lying across each other. 

The next day was Santiago's, and I was roused 
at five by the clanging of the sanctuary bell. 
From my window I could see the pilgrims and a 
few very fat and sleepy nuns in grey trudging off 
to Mass. The world was then cold, the air steel- 
blue and wonderfully calm, the noise of water 
falling through the hills the only sound — for the 
region is of limestone pierced with caves and under- 
ground rivers beyond counting. 

I cannot begin with history. I must find my 
place and fill in the chinks ; neither the historian 
nor the romance-maker can help till I have found 
something of myself, so I came to Covadonga un- 
provided. 

Ignoring the guide and the history - book, I 



298 NOW ALL IS DONE 

started up the mountain through the largest and 
most varied natural garden, thinking as I went 
of the uses of money ; and in the end it appeared 
to be of value only where it purchases that 
precious thing, privacy. Here one is private. I 
can get no mail or other communication. I can- 
not, if I would, touch or look on the world, and it 
cannot touch me. That is my highest joy, that I 
am beyond the reach and press of the world. And as 
if fearing that I should be discovered and dragged 
back, I climbed and cHmbed till I could no more, 
for the country became broken, and I had to tack 
and wind through passes and little mountain fields ; 
by brakes of hazel and beech ; scale limestone 
crags, and on by strips of soft green lawn and 
patches of wild flowers growing above long grass. 
Man makes hay in the crannies at these heights, 
and all the crops had not been cut and carried to 
the homes below. I paused under many a natural 
castle and gateway of rock, where splendid masses 
rose or leaned together on the mountain-side. I 
leapt the torrents and drank from dripping stones 
and calm, arrested pools. I tired, I rested, 
gathered strength, and must needs go on. Hills 
were below and above me, and valleys near and 
far ; trees of deepest green stood solitary, and 
woods and waving lines of green showed their joy 
in a succession of warm, moist summer days. The 
highest peaks beckoned, promising a story and a 
rare scene, so I went on. 

I fought with the humble-bees for the honey 



COMING INTO MY OWN 299 

within the throats of the large purple flowers of 
the wild nettle. I gathered nosegays and sniffed 
and chewed them as a child, and child-like threw 
them away. Where the ground was sure, I chased 
little blue and brown butterflies, but without 
reason, for taking me for a Franciscan they settled 
on my hands. I drank more and more water, for 
the air lightened with every step, and there came 
that longing we have in mountain heights to be 
washed and pure. I rolled up my sleeves and let 
my arms sink to their elbows in an icy pool held 
by the ooze on the mountain-side. Then I lay on 
a mossy slab and felt it would be better if I lay 
beneath, in the conviction that there I should be 
undisturbed for ever. But freshening, a supple 
ash-plant waved in my face, and all the hard years 
slipped away. I made me a whistle with a high 
plaintive note like that of a wounded bird ; so I 
took a thicker piece with a lip which almost filled 
my mouth ; this had a full, challenging sort of 
sound and stimulated me to a quick march up the 
mountain. I climbed, I blew, and I laughed at my 
childishness and pride in small things. Then I 
came into the presence of the great, for I arrived 
at the summit of what proved to be the highest 
peak for miles around. It was no great height, 
four thousand feet or so ; but all in sight of it was 
mine ! — to the east, mountains and mist ; to the 
north and the south, mountains and mist ; and 
towards the west, the light of the setting sun. 
Far below lay wonderful valleys, castles, trees. 



300 NOW ALL IS DONE 

and fields, and the shrine of Covadonga ; around 
me swept buoyant and sustaining air, which said 
to my soul, '' Rejoice, thou art free ! '' So I sat 
me down on this crown of the world ; and, looking 
round to see nothing I feared, there, with the rude 
pipe of my making, I blew out the song of my 
heart ! 

Covadonga, like the rest of its class, came into 
note as a sanctuary and place of pilgrimage in the 
eighth century. A book on the inventions of the 
eighth century should rival those of the nineteenth 
or this twentieth. Covadonga owes its origin to 
the beatification of Pelayo, the last of the Goths, 
who overcame the Saracens in this valley. Ac- 
cording to tradition, his body lies in its holy 
cave. The remains of Alonzo the First, and Favila, 
both of the eighth century, are also buried here. 
As a shrine this ranks third or fourth among those 
of Spain. Santiago stands first, then Montserrat 
(the only one with a soul). El Pilar of Zaragoza, and 
Covadonga. The Escorial, though comparatively 
modern, was once a popular shrine, but its his- 
toric associations, splendid paintings, and other 
works of art have made it more attractive to the 
tourist than to the devout pilgrim. 

Other shrines of Spain are El Vierzo, San Miguel, 
near Ronda, and El Virgen del Montana of 
Casceres. 

Pelayo worked wonders at Covadonga, killing 
more thousands of dusky Moors than the narrow 
defiles could possibly have held ; but all to good 



BEAUTY PAYS 301 

purpose, so far as the faith was concerned. And 
then, because this was a lovely mountain-girt 
valley, with rocks carved, fretted, and piled like 
castles about it ; and because of dangerous crags 
and overhanging cliffs and torrents of icy water ; 
cavernous pools ; natural wells ; underground 
rivers and streams ; glacier-like faces of moun- 
tain sweat ; splendid trees, delicate flowers, ferns, 
and mosses ; and because the wind shouts and 
sighs up and down the vales, and round the 
crags, making melody within the fluted shafts 
of the rocks ; and because upon the heights there 
is always cloud, mist, and the commanding finger 
of God ; and because man cannot look in any 
direction without fearing and wondering, rejoicing, 
dreaming, gaining courage, trying to get into touch 
and harmony with nature ; and because beauty 
pays handsomely whenever it can be caught and 
held for sale, those astute old chaps, the Spanish 
Fathers, said one to the other, *' We must not 
neglect this good thing ! Come along, I pray ye, 
with St. Pelayo. Lo, here is a cave and a stream 
on the site of his battlefield, and the scene of his 
great labours. Let us magnify his suffering and 
the splendour of his deeds, for, verily, we may 
say whoso cometh hither to witness shall find his 
reward." So between begging, borrowing, and 
high romancing, they found a tomb for Pelayo 
and, his body and coffin not wanting, the business 
began. As this happened in that very good time 
when the world lived on miracles and pilgrimage. 



302 NOW ALL IS DONE 

the story of Pelayo and the splendours of Cova- 
donga soon proclaimed it a notable shrine. We 
cannot object to that, for in feeding the bodies of 
a few, the monks and their legends and labours 
satisfied the hunger of the souls of many. 

A neat sandal is worn by the mountain-folk of 
the Cantabrians. A piece of white or buff-coloured 
green hide is cut to the shape of the foot, crimped 
round the margin, and sewn with a broad white 
leather lace, till it looks like the curled edge of 
pie-crust. These sandals are worn over a black or 
brown felt sock and tied with a heel and ankle 
crossing of green leather. In the low country, 
wooden clogs are worn. One may gauge the 
primitive character of the Cantabrian Basques 
from the fact that whenever it rains they take off 
any foot-gear and go bare-foot. These moun- 
taineers are the brownest of Spaniards ; their 
climate moist and never very hot, they expose 
themselves to all weathers. The boina, which 
every man wears, is in the form of a tam-o'- 
shanter, but so small that it leaves all the face 
exposed. The women go bare-headed or use no 
more than a black handkerchief. One rarely sees 
a fair person in this, the reputed home of the 
Spanish Goths ; but many fair, red, and tawny 
folk are seen in Guipuscoa and the valleys under 
the Spanish Pyrenees. A few curly-haired people 
are met with round Gijon, the like of which 
are to be found in no other province. There 
is httle that is strange in the Spaniards of 



THE NORTHERN TYPE 303 

the northern coast, they could pass for British 
islanders. 

When one has seen Spain in all places and 
seasons one must believe that the people of the 
north coast have the best of it ; their climate is less 
rigorous, nature is more beautiful and more bounti- 
ful ; the sense of life is stronger, and the risks 
and dangers they encounter are those which im- 
prove and mellow the soul. 

The women along this coast are of fine physique 
and perfect slaves ; though doing every class of 
manual labour, they are not pulled out of shape 
or roughened by it. Women load and unload 
ships, control farms, fishing, everything, excepting 
the mechanical and skilled handicrafts. There are 
many facial types, but all are much alike in dis- 
position. The timidity, caution, and noisiness of 
the south is not apparent, but instead there is a 
French manner without the brightness and sense 
of order; the modern architecture, too, is French 
in character, and many words are articulated 
in French form. 

Bilbao is the finest city of its size in Spain ; it 
bears a striking resemblance to the modern part 
of Edinburgh, and is scarcely less beautiful. It 
lies in a vale, on both sides of a deep and sinuous 
river, and is shut in by hills of splendid propor- 
tions, whose slopes afford great variety in form 
and the colour of their vegetation. Old Bilbao 
teems with human life, and the new part spacious, 
formal, and stately, is also full of people. The air 



304 NOW ALL IS DONE 

reeks of trade. One feels that this is a money 
manufactory. Hundreds of mines are disgorging 
to maintain this city, and are doing so very well ; 
the general effect is strong and comforting. Press 
and get ahead, may not be the best of mottoes ; 
but here it is recognised, and as all strive to work, 
few are poor, and the result is an unusually robust, 
animate, and cheerful crowd. 

Bilbao is un-Spanish in many ways. Life is an 
earnest affair. Attractive pieces of architecture 
abound, and the old streets, though straight, are 
full of character. The town appears always to be 
en fete, for every family's washing in all colours 
hangs from the windows perpetually. Children 
are in swarms, and very noisy and hardy. The 
boina of the Bilbaoans is tiny, sitting on the head 
like a languid apple-dumpling. 

The following names appear in the order printed 
over the fish and fruit vendors' stalls in the open 
market of Bilbao. Could any other nation make 
such a display of beautiful names ? 



Juana Modesta 


Josef a 


Lucia 


Cecelia 


Dominga Augustina 


Narcissa 


Antonia 


Basilisa 


Santa Pascasia 


Maria 


Joaquina 


Eusebia 


Andressa Eufemia 


Rita 


Victoria 


Francisca 


Victoriana Cipriana 


Benilda 


Valeariana Manuela 


Elisa Juliana 


Ramona 


Tomasa 


Clotilda 


Romulada 


Hermenegilda 





One night in Bilbao a woman entered a cheap 
eating-house and asked for pan y agua — a roll 



TAX AND EVER MORE TAX 305 

and glass of water — price one halfpenny. I sat 
opposite, eating a tenpenny meal of four courses, 
with wine and a variety of fresh fruit. According 
to custom I smiled at the woman, as if she were my 
nearest friend, and placed my hands as if to say, 
'' All this is spread for you.'' She replied by 
shrugging her shoulders, letting her head to one 
side, pouting her lips, and dropping the hand which 
held the bread so that she said, *' Observe the con- 
trast ? Such is fate ! I am poor, you are rich ! God 
help me ! Virgen Maria ! Por Dios ! " This caused 
me to reflect on some signs of the times and quaint 
humours of Spain. 

Signs of the Times 

Owing to the taxes imposed upon them, ad- 
vertisement signs and announcements are scarce 
in Spain. Window displays also are taxed ; in 
fact, goodness knows what is not ! I was about to 
write that the Spanish Government taxes every- 
thing, excepting brains ; but, well, enterprise is 
certainly taxed. One cannot strike out, and be 
in any sense independent, for the tax-collectors — 
always plural— insist on coming along and taxing 
so much of the cream of the profits that there is 
little reward for enterprise left. Two orphan girls 
had to withdraw a sign which contained the single 
word '' peinadora " (hairdresser) in order to avoid 
a preposterous tax ; and one of my landlords 
had his sign hung on a wall inside the passage, 
because it would be too costly to show it in the 



3o6 NOW ALL IS DONE 

street. I have walked through miles of streets, 
looking for a lodging-house, and must certainly 
have passed scores of them ; but not one showed 
a sign, for so sure as there is the slightest display 
that house is taxed to ruinous proportions. This 
taxing of enterprise and food-stuffs, and the farm- 
ing of the taxes, is the most baneful factor in the 
everyday life of Spain. The whole system is based 
on an entirely false, immoral, and antiquated con- 
ception of social economics. 

If taxing the townspeople drove them to be 
first-hand and more efficient producers, there 
might be some reason for this thoroughgoing 
bleeding of the taxpayers ; but it does not ; for 
no class of field produce escapes taxation, and all 
the land is taxed in ways too numerous to mention. 

From three to five hundred men are employed 
in sitting round and levying taxes on a town of a 
hundred thousand souls ; and practically all the 
money collected is divided amongst the tax- 
gatherers, whose chief employment is to beget off- 
spring, if anything more parasitic than themselves. 

Of course, some folk must proclaim their exist- 
ence and that of their wares ; but the signs are 
always small and briefly business-like. On one 
side of a huge portal giving access to a cheap 
eating-house, a tall, cadaverous creature was 
sketched on the whitewashed wall, and out of his 
mouth came the words : '' I dine at one of the 
best cafes in Malaga and pay two pesetas for four 
plates ; look at me ! " On the other side of the 



MORE ABOUT WIDOWS 307 

doorway was sketched a burly John Bull sort of 
figure doing his best to get his arms to touch 
around his enormous waistcoat, and laughing out : 
'' Here ! One penny ! " This was no exaggeration. 
I have shared the penny meal of four courses — 
soup, fish, a bowl of salad and fresh fruit, with 
olives, bread, and crystal water. 

In a cafe at Malaga was written in English on a 
card, '' English black stout porter for sale,'' and 
I have known an inn named '' The Widow.'' It 
may be doubted if one ever had more lovers. To 
catch English-speaking visitors in a northern 
town, the barber hangs out the word, '' Hair- 
cutterie " ; and another barber has this sign, 
*' Barberia of the two Angels, my wife and I " 
(their surname is Angel). Spanish barbers are still 
so old-fashioned as to pull teeth and use the 
lancet. Over a door in a southern village are the 
words, *' Barber ; I draw blood." 

Over railway ticket offices the word '' Exploita- 
tion " is fixed, and though it means only ordinary 
business it seems not inappropriate, for they 
rarely charge the fare marked on the ticket — but 
generally more ! 

'' El Frequentemente " is the sign of a wine-shop 
in Salamanca, where one day a knot of men were 
discussing the rare subject of women. A dry- 
looking chap said he thought bachelors knew most 
about women, and then, looking down his waist- 
coat, uttered reflectively, '* Perhaps that is why 
they are bachelors ! " 



3o8 NOW ALL IS DONE 

The leading bull-fighters issue very elaborate 
sheet almanacks, \^dth records of tables and per- 
formances from year to year. There is usually a 
full-length portrait of the hero in fighting fig, 
with emblems of the ring forming an illuminated 
border. Here are two samples : 

'' Lagartijo (the lizard), 1900-02. Fought in 
276 plazas, averaging 3 bulls in each — 828 in all." 

" Moreno de Alcala, 1907-8, fought 40 corridas 
— engagements. KiUing 120 bulls in the year — 
(Spain and Mexico)." 

Sounds and Cries 

Spanish cathedral and great church towers have 
from twelve to twenty bells hung at different 
heights and used for different ceremonies. The 
general clanging and tanging is " striking," but 
not charming. There is no set pealing, the boys 
who monopolise the towers do no more than make 
signals to each other. 

Beautiful bells in Spain there must be, for many 
have been wrought with great care ; but hung, 
tongued, and struck as they are, no true voice 
escapes them capable of reaching the soul of man. 

The knife-grinder and tinsmith announces his 
presence out of a Pan's pipe of five to seven reeds, 
at the same time beating out a quick step with a 
light hammer on the bottom of a pot, platter, or 
frying-pan. This he does with great dexterity, 
providing homely music. His pace is quicker than 
anv other man in the street. 



THINGS WHICH ADORN 309 

On the railways the guards blow little brass 
horns so tunefully that one longs to escape from 
the train and go a-hunting. 

I have seen at least one stove-pipe hat in its 
proper place. At Velez a sailor's cabin had an old 
silk hat stuck on the roof to form the chimney — 
just as in the house of Wendy. 

Spanish editors do not believe in anonymity. 
In Valladolid the entire front of a building — more 
than thirty feet — is taken up with '' Andres 
Martin, Editor.'' 

The '' Heraldo de Madrid " had a notice : 
'' Makowski, the actor most celebrated in Berlin, 
died repentant this morning." 

On a boiling hot afternoon, at a bull-fight in 
Salamanca, some one dropped and broke a bottle, 
and a man sitting near said quietly, '' Now^ we 
shall hear about the hot weather." 

Another fellow in his enthusiasm threw his 
umbrella into the ring, and the handle came off ! 
^^Vaya!" said he, "I'm off, I can't stand this 
excitement " ; and he went. He represented a 
common type of Spaniard w^ho cannot experience 
the slightest loss without wishing to sulk and 
suffer alone. 

In a cheap eating-house I took the only piece 
of chorizo from the small plate of meat. '' Brute ! " 
exclaimed the maid. '' Wh}^ ? " said I. '' What's 
it there f or ? " " What f or ? " she shrieked. 
'' It's to adorn the plate ! " I knew this well 
enough, but hunger must be satisfied sometimes. 



310 NOW ALL IS DONE 

Here is a story characterising the condition of 
Spain and the Spanish manner of joking : 

Devotee : *' In five years I have made three 
pilgrimages to the shrine of Montserrat." 

Beggar : '' Vaya ! Nothing ! In three weeks I 
have made five pilgrimages to the monte de 
piete ! '' (pawnshop). 

In some provinces Spanish children are frank, 
animate, and ready-witted ; in others, shy, quiet, 
and dull. Some children were playing at school 
on the sands near Malaga. A little girl was asked, 
'' What is an island ? " and she immediately 
answered, '' A bump in the sea ! '* 

A little boy, asked by a grown friend, '' Do 
you love me ? " sighed, '' Sometimes, but not now ; 
I am fat with dinner ! " 

The Basques do not provide one with much 
entertainment, but they teach some useful lessons. 
They are the Stoics of the Peninsula. AU their 
movements and actions are very slow, yet they 
keep going and accomplish a good deal. They are 
hard to understand because so unlike other 
people ; their language, world, and its concerns 
are their own ; they say nothing about either, at 
least they do not brag to any foreigner. They are 
the people — the foreigner does not count ! Not 
that the Basque is uncouth, but he asks or implies, 
*' Your business ? Any more ? Thank you ! 
Good day ! " I stewed him hard for some time, 
but he remained hard. There seems to be no way 
of making a Spaniard out of him ; and one 



HARD NUTS 311 

wonders what he may be instead. Many Basques 
do not know a word, excepting a garbled word of 
Castilian, and their own Basquenth seems to be 
formed for business and curt farewells. But one 
likes their brevity, if only that it proves they are 
not humbugs. 

Most of the Basque provinces are truly beauti- 
ful, but often it is a profitless beauty. One may 
not easily see so much green which is not to be 
eaten or sent to market in some form, does not 
attract tourists, or delight sportsmen. The 
mountains, vales, and rivers are exquisite to the 
eye ; but they do little to sustain the body. At 
most they do not sustain many bodies. The wet 
winds of the Atlantic press almost continually, 
and promoting sour moss-like growths over much 
of the country, neither man nor beast can subsist 
on the natural vegetation. Trees of many kinds 
thrive, and one could not wish for a better wooded 
land, or greener, cooler, sweeter vales. Walnuts, 
chestnuts, and cobnuts are grown in great quanti- 
ties, and then there are the Basque-nuts. I can- 
not explain further about the Basques, for they 
will not let me ! In one way I know them ; in 
another it would be presumption to admit as much. 
They are a very hardy, big, strong, determined, 
good-looking and quiet people, good to know and 
a misfortune to lose. 

Arriving at San Sebastian, after nine months' 
wandering, I look back on many blessed days. I 
have lived to my soul's uplifting. I have increased 



312 NOW ALL IS DONE 

the length and the breadth of my life. I have had 
some real leisure, a feeling that I was beyond the 
reach of the world and might have it out with 
myself ; size up the past ; and decide on what 
should be retained. I have been imitating Spain, 
and restoring or rebuilding the edifice of my true 
self. I am fairer, and come again to have faith 
in work. I have gathered a store of useful 
materials ; I have two willing hands and the 
world waits 



THE NORTHERN GATE 

The Northern Gate swings wide at last ! 

There glints the chaste Pyrenean snow ; 
Biscaya's tide is rising fast, 

And you and I must homeward go. 

Blest, if this jaunt our hearts inspire 
To service for the sons of men ; 

With time beside life's evening fire 
To dream and live these days again. 



INDEX 



Abstemiousness, 88 
Affection, 76, 84, 255, 161 
Alms for protection, 289 
Alicante, 165 
Altar stairs, 220 
Angels' hair, 296 
Announcements, 178, 187 
Anticipating Christ, 187 
Arapiles, scene of battle, 256 
Architecture, 198, 290 
Arlanzon, River, 224, 230 
Army, Spanish, 149 
Anisetto, Don, 129 



B 

Baby-beating, the, 177 

Barbers' signs, 307 

Barcelona, 189, 198 

Bar of Castile, 231 

Basque folk, 310 

Beasts of burden, 248 

Beauties, Spanish, 13, 20, 118, 

131, 183, 200, 202, 236, 261, 

279, 301 
Bells of Spain, 308 
Bilbao, 303 

Birthplace of the Cid, 228 
Blackmail, 132 
Blades, Spanish, 64, 113 



Boasting habits, 46, 99, 103, no 
Boats, primitive, 141 
Boina, the, 302, 304 
Books, absence of, 10, 126 
Boulders, giant, 269 
Bread, 94, 201, 243, 291, 297 
Bricks and buildings, 260 
Bride of Fate, 186 
Burgos, beauties of, 223, 244 
Burial, 66, 163, 214 
Bull-fighters, 11,308 
Business methods, 13, 99, 261, 
262 



Casceres for strength and order, 

259 
Cafes, 12, 125 
Cane-splitting, 62 
Cantabrians, 294 
Cards, 62 
Cartagena, 138 
Castle of Burgos, 231 
Castle of Medina del Campo, 

237 
Cathedral of Leon, 287 
Cayetano, desire of, 239 
Celosa, jealousy, 47, 129, 131, 

250 
Cemeteries, 160 



! Cervantes, house of, 233 
313 



314 



INDEX 



Chameleon, the, "j^ 
Charro or Salamantino, 247 
Children of Spain, 48, 135, 148, 

184, 229, 261, 279, 310 
Chimneys, 114 
Chorizo, King, 91 
Church of glass, 290 
Cid, El, his birth spot, 228, 229 
— his playground, 230 
Civihsation, a burden, 193, 298 
Climate, 115, 182 
Clothes-snatching, 164 
Clubland, 126 
Colour in art, 290 
Columbus, place of death, 232 
Comfort, lack of, 10 
Compostella, the, 280 
Conversation, 12, 23, 121 
Cooking, 92, 95, 202 
Cordoba, 12, 15 
Covadonga, shrine of, 296 
Corsair, home of the, 143 
Costumes, 121, 183, 247, 249, 

280 
Couplets, 31, 65 
Cradle, 117 



D 



Dancing, 104, 105, 249 
Dangerous society, 279 
Date palm in Spain, 152 
Death, 90, 217 
Decoration, street, 106 
Delicacies, table, 69 
Denia, 183 

Dishes, 44, 45, 94, 95, 296, 297 
Domestic habits, 200, 246, 281 
Doncella, a fair, 72 



Dress, 34, 49, 53, 58, 69, 74, 104, 
112, 113, 121, 122, 144, 188, 
264, 286 
Drinking habit, 88, 89, 127, 158 
Dwelling-places, marvellous, 214 



Enemies and weapons, 262 
Ermitas, nature of, 187, 214 
Europe's Liberator, 218 



Fair, Seville, 107 

Favila, tomb of, 300 

Faith and hope, 241 

Fare, 29, 44, 61, 95, 130, 211, 222 

Farewells, 24, 137, 255, 312 

Female attire, 13, 20 

Festivals, 133, 174, 177, 248, 249 

Fishing-boats, 144, 166, 180, 184, 

188 
Flavourings, 93 
Flax spinning, 154 
Flowers, i, 15, 18, 182, 189, 268 
Food and feeding, 89, 93, 95, 96, 

108, 296 
Friends, meeting, 5 
Fruit, 93 

Funerals, 157, 163 
Furniture, 10, 89 



Games, 62 

Garden, an old, 18 ; town gar- 
dens, 235 
Gardens, natural, 212 



INDEX 



315 



Garlic, 25, 43, 90 
Gari, Friar Juan, 218 
Garments, 34, 49, 53, 58, 69, 74, 

109, 230 
Garters, gift of, 108 
Gate, the Northern, 312 
Giant's Castle, a, 207 
Gitanescos, 65 
Government, 305 
Granary of Spain, 247 
Graves, 162, 213, 214 
Gun-running, 184 
Gypsies, 108 



H 

Hair-dressing, 21, 118, 119, I2T, 

263, 278, 282, 302 
Herbs of the field, 90 
Hills of God, 299 
Homes, peasant, 41, 151 
Horses, 123 
Houses, queer, 102, 235, 250, 252, 

253 
Humour, Spanish, 6, 44, 60, 86, 

136, 149, 307, 309, 310 
Hunger, 99 
Husband and wife, 71 

i 

Idhng, 17 

Industry, examples of, 151, 152, 

188 
Interiors, house, 8, 10, 102, 119, 

187, 246, 263 



K 



Kiss, the, 86 
Knife, 64 



Labour and its reward, 195, 196 

Lady, the, in Spain, 70 

Landscapes, 2, 25, 112, 133, 140, 
151, 174, 181, 187, 188, 189, 
206, 212, 225, 226, 257, 258, 
266, 269, 283, 287, 294, 29s, 

311 
Langton, 237 
Language, 32, 190 
Laundry customs, 11, 234, 304 
Legend of the shell, 281 
Leon, cathedral of, 287 
Letter-writers, 203 
Levitical law, 24, 44, 200 
Lodging, loi, 127 
Love, 64, 66, 80, 83 
Love-letters, 146, 147, 167, 202, 

204 
Lovers, 121, 124, 171, 175, 253 
Life, the religious, 178 
Luis, Don, 45 



M 

Maize, 285 

Manners, table, 46, 89, 135, 249 

Manuela, Dona, 129 

Marksmen, 181 

Maria, 42 

Maria Dona, 91 

Market folk, 21, 122, 157, 238, 

245, 292 
Mass, 71, 297 
Mattraca, the, 14 
Meat, 43, 46, 49, 90, 91, 92, 93 
Medina, Azzahra, 17 
Memory, good, 5, 245 
Middle course, the, 279 



3i6 



INDEX 



Milch donkeys, 203 
Minho, mouth of, 266 
Misrario as home, 42 
Mistress and maid, 71 
Mistrust, 261 
Money-testing, 39 
Monk and monastery, 219 
Montserrat, 206 
Monuments and rubbish, 234 
Moorish influence, 21, 246 
Motherhood, 52, 135, 292 
Mountain, the Holy, 213 
Mountain scenery, 257 
Mountains, life in, 28 
Mules and dealers, 107 
Muscatels, 55 ; eating of, 61 
Music, 64, 270, 308 
Murcia, vale of, 115 



N 



Names, 236, 304 
Nicknames, 200 
Nobihty, 8 



O 

Odours, national, 108, 293 
Oranges, 26, 115, 180, 185, 
Ordono, sleeping, 289 
Our Lady of Health, 247 
Ownership, 194 



Painter's workshop and home, 

135 
Patch shops, 58 
Pay day, 38 



Peasant faces, 22, 29, 188, 249 
Peasant fare, 29, 44, 61 
Pelayo, story of, 300 
Phihp the Second, birthplace of, 

232 
Pilgrims, 221, 280 
Pipe and drum, 248 
Play, 72, no, 174 
Police, 20, 175, 181 
Pontius Pilate washed, 178 
Pots and pans, 43 
Poverty, 9, 23, 49, 69, 99, 130, 

182 
Pride, 9, 53, 59 
Priests, 165, 221, 294 
Primitive scenes, 262, 284, 287 
Proverbs, 95 



Quail callers, 62 



R 

Raisin industry, 184 

Rats and mice, 31 

Revolt against labour, 142, 155, 

193 

Rice fields, 175, 183 

Riches, 46, 49 

Roads in Galicia, 271 

Rock dwellings, 114, 167, 214, 
217 

Romance of the hermits' dwell- 
ing, 214 

Romance, home of, 173 

Rosario number one, 129 

Rosario number two, 250 

Rows, 128 

Rules for pilgrims, 209 



INDEX 



317 



S 
Saffron, 114 
Saguntum, 186 
Salamanca, 244 
Sandals, neat, 302 
Santiago, 272 
Scots of Spain, 223 
Sereno, El, 176 
Sermon, a, 192, 218, 240 
Servants, 72, 236, 251, 256 
Seville Fair, 100 
Sexes, relationship of, 22, 76 
Shoeing animals, 117 
Shops, 13, 187 
Shrines of Spain, 300 
Shrines for vagabonds, i, 289 
Shrines, source of, 213, 272, 

301 
Sign and gesture, 168, 169, 170, 

171, 305 
Signs, shop, 187 
Sitges, town of, 188 
Smuggling, 184 
Social life, 10, 23, 96 
Soil, poor, 281 
Soldiers, 236 
Soldiers travelling, 236 
Song, 61,64, III, 153, 174 
Soul of Spain, 66, no 
Speech-making, 40, 59, 102 
Starling, 57 
Stratagems, 145, 147 
Street cries, 308 
Strife, 29, 32, 154 
Superstition, 70, 148, 258, 226 
Sweetmeats, 94, 108 
Sword of grace, 262 
Sword and flag, 149 
Sum, the human, 195 



Table manners, 24, 73 

Tanners of Burgos, 230 

Tanners of Salamanca, 244 

Taxes, 305 

Tea, 88 

Time no object, 94, 97, 271 

Towel and water, 119, 187 

Travel moods, 4 

Travel experiences, 20, 156, 

236, 273, 306 
Trees, influence of, 224 
Trinidad, 55, 76, 80, 84, 87 
Turner picture, a, 257 



U 



Unpunctuahty, 97, 271 
Utensils, 8, 89, 108, 117, 119, 
148, 233, 292 



V 

Vagabonds, 232, 237, 249 
Valencia del Cid, 172 
Valladolid, 232 
Vandalism, 190, 233 
Vegetables, 93 
Veil, rending of the, 179 
Villages, beautiful, 47, 284 
Violets of Murcia, 115 



W 



Wages, 21 

Walls of Leon, 291 



3i8 



INDEX 



Water, 96, 211, 216, 262, 270 
Water carriers, walk of, 262 
Whitewashing, 246 
Windows, scarcity of, 246, 250 
Wine and vine, 166 
Wisdom of the fathers, 208 
Wit, 23, 34, 95 
Women, names of, 304 
Women, primitive, 249 



Women, position of. 96, 131, 261, 

277, 303 
Work, the madness of, i, 19, 142, 

155, 193 
World's inquiry, the, 239 



Zamora, beauty of, 236 



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